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DOROTHY DAINTY 
AT THE STONE HOUSE 


popular Storieo. 

By AMY BROOKS. 

£ach illustrated by the Author. 

THE RANDY BOOKS. 

i2ino. Cloth. Cover Designs by the Author. $1.25 each. 

RANDY’S SUMMER. RANDY’S GOOD TIMES. 

RANDY'S WINTER. RANDY’S LUCK. 

RANDY AND HER FRIENDS. RANDY’S LOYALTY. 

RANDY AND PRUE. RANDY’S PRINCE. 


for l^ounaer IRcabers. 

. DOROTHY DAINTY SERIES. 

Large lamo. Cloth. Cover Designs by the Author. Set In large 
English type. Price, net, $1.00 each. 

DOROTHY DAINTY. 

DOROTK''’S PLAYMATES. 

DOROTH^ DAINTY AT SCHOOL. 

DOROTHY DAINTY AT THE SHORE, 

DOROTHY DAINTY IN THE CITY. 

DOROTHY DAINTY AT HOME. 

DOROTHY DAINTY’S GAY TIMES. 

DOROTHY DAINTY IN THE COUNTRY. 

DOROTHY DAINTY’S WINTER. 

DOROTHY DAINTY AT THE MOUNTAINS. 

DOROTHY DAINTY’S HOLIDAYS. 

DOROTHY DAINTY’S VACATION. 

DOROTHY DAINTY’S VISIT. 

DOROTHY DAINTY AT CRESTVILLE. 

DOROTHY DAINTY’S NEW FRIENDS. 

DOROTHY DAINTY AT GLENMORE. 

DOROTHY DAINTY AT FOAM RIDGE. 

DOROTHY DAINTY AT THE STONE HOUSE. 

THE PRUE BOOKS. 

X2mo. Cloth. Cover Designs by the Author. Net $ .75 each. 
LITTLE SISTER PRUE. PRUE’S MERRY TIMES. 

PRUE AT SCHOOL. PRUE’S LITTLE FRIENDS. 

PRUE’S PLAYMATES. PRUE’S JOLLY WINTER. 


A JOLLY CAT TALE. Large lamo. Cloth. Profusely Illus- 
trated, Price Net $1.00 




• %' 





“Three for luck! ’’ cried Dorothy. — Pages. 


DOROTHY DAINTY 
AT THE STONE HOUSE 


BY 

AMY BROOKS 

it 


WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY THE AUTHOR 



BOSTON : 

LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO. 


DOROTHY DAINTY 

TRADE-MARK 

Registered in U.S. Patent Office 



Published August, 1919 

COPTBIGHT, 1919, BY LOTHROP, Lee & ShEPABD CO. 


» 


All Rights Reserved 


Dorothy Dainty at the Stone House 



) 

l i' 1 9ly 


NorlnoDli 

J. S. Cushing Co. — Berwick & Smith Co. 
Norwood, Mass., U.S. A. 


©CI.A.'529843 


J 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTBB 

I. 

Three for Luck 




PAQB 

1 

II. 

A Jolly Afternoon 




. 20 

III. 

The Hut on the Meadow 




. 44 

IV. 

Patricia Lavine 




. 58 

V. 

What Nancy Said . 




. 79 

VI. 





. 97 

VII. 

A Mystery 




. 115 

VIII. 

Planning a Fair . 




. 134 

IX. 

Aladdin’s Lamp 




. 153 

X. 

Jack’s Pageant 




. 174 

XL 

A Genuine Surprise Party 




. 194 

XII. 

Flossie’s Wonderful News 




. 213 


V 



ILLUSTRATIONS 

“Three for luck!” cried Dorothy (Page 3) . Frontispiece'^ 

Facing Page 

wish you were to stay here always, Betty . . 40- 

^‘0 dear!’' cried Patricia. “Will they ever learn to 

mind?” 66*^ 

Was Tess listening? 104- ' 

“Go ’way ! Go ’way !” she shrieked .... 142 

Out from behind the heavy shrubbery came the pro- 
cession 188 


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DOROTHY DAINTY AT THE 
STONE HOUSE 

CHAPTEE I 

THKEE FOR LUCK 

A t the far end of the great garden 
stood a fine old snn-dial, sur- 
rounded by phlox and geraniums, 
because those sturdy plants liked the burn- 
ing of the sun as well as did the dial. 

In the center of the garden, the lovely 
fountain danced gayly upward, fiinging its 
glittering spray broadcast, whenever the 
breeze passed that way. 

The children liked to watch the shadow 
on the dial as it slowly moved along; they 


1 


2 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


thought it great sport to sail tiny boats on 
the fountain basin, and they laughed when 
the mischievous breeze made them capsize ; 
but best of all they loved the old stone ped- 
estal, capped with a shallow bowl that 
always held a cool little pool of water for 
the tiny birds to drink. 

Like the sun-dial, it stood in the center 
of a mass of flowers, and always there were 
birds hovering over it, now drinking, now 
bathing with a great fluttering of wings. 
One morning Dorothy and Nancy ran down 
to the drinking basin, Dorothy saying on 
the way, ‘^Remember, I said, ‘If there are 
three birds drinking, Betty is coming, but 
if there are only two, she isn’t.’ ” 

“O dear! I do hope there will be more 
than two,” said Nancy. “Sometimes there 
are a dozen.” 

“That would be just as bad,” said Doro- 


THREE FOR LUCK 


3 


thy. there are just three, I’ll know 

she’s coming. Why, there aren’t any!^^ 

^^Oh, that’s because they’re just coming,” 
Nancy said, ‘^for I know they are on their 
way.” 

With a whir of wings, three twittering 
little sparrows perched upon the edge of the 
bowl. 

Three for luck!” cried Dorothy, point- 
ing to the birds. 

‘^And they stay there drinking, and just 
three of them!” Nancy said. 

“I’m sure that Betty is coming ! ’ ’ declared 
Dorothy. She clasped Nancy’s hand, and 
they skipped along the path, singing gayly : 
“She’s coming! She’s coming! Surely, 
surely coming!” 

Little Fluff was greatly excited, and raced 
wildly after them, barking loudly, although 
he had no idea what it was all about. 


4 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


At a turn of the path, a dapper lad came 
forward to meet them. 

“Oh, Jimmy! Jimmy Harkins!” cried 
Nancy, “we’re glad to see you.” 

“Indeed we are,” said Dorothy, as she 
took the letter that he offered her. 

“This came to the office, because it was 
addressed, ^Care of Mr. Rudolph Dainty,’ 
and when your father saw it, he said, ^Doro- 
thy is so eager to have letters from her 
friends that I’ll not allow her to wait till 
four this afternoon, so, James,’ he always 
calls me James, ^ou may take it out to 
Merrivale now,’ so here I am.” 

“I ought to remember to call you 
^ James,’ ” Nancy said, “but it doesn’t sound 
as if we used to play together, and ever since 
that night when you took me safely back to 
the dear ones that loved me, I seem to have 
to say ‘Jimmy.’ ” 


THREE FOR LUCK 5 

There was a bit of moisture in the lad’s 
honest eyes when he said, guess I’d rather 
you would, Nancy. ‘James’ sounds more 
grown-up at the office, and I’m working hard 
to help all I can, and get ahead, but the girls 
and boys I’ve always known can just go 
right on calling me ‘Jimmy.’ ” 

Then he turned to Dorothy. 

“Just look and see if you have to answer 
right off, for if you do. I’ll take it to the 
office, and mail it for 5^ou.” 

Eagerly she opened and read the first 
sentence : 

“Deak Dorothy; dear Nancy: 

“I shall be with you to-morrow. I don’t 
know when the train reaches Merrivale, be- 
cause I have to change twice on the way.” 

She turned the page, and Betty’s auto- 
graph looked up at her. 

“Oh, Jimmy! Hurry right back to my 


6 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


father and ask him to telegraph to Betty 
and to say that we are expecting her. Here ! 
Ill tear off the address from the bottom of 
the page, so you can give it to him,’’ she 
said. 

Jimmy took the slip of paper, and was off, 
calling, ‘‘Good-bye,” as he ran. 

Mrs. Dainty had urged Betty to come to 
the Stone House and make a little visit be- 
fore school opened. 

Betty was going back to the school at 
Glenmore, and when she learned that Doro- 
thy and Nancy were to spend the winter in 
Merrivale, she was very eager to accept the 
invitation. 

When Mrs. Dainty examined the time- 
table, she at once saw that Betty could not 
arrive at Merrivale before afternoon, and 
that it would be on a train that came in at 
four or six o’clock. 


THREE FOR LUCK 


7 


^‘And it’s only ten o’clock, now!” said 
Dorothy, with as droll an expression as if 
she had declared that Betty conld not arrive 
for a month. 

Mollie Merton and l^lossie Barnet were 
away, so they roamed through the gardens, 
talking of Betty, of Valerie. Dare, who had 
been her chum ; they planned more things to 
be done for Betty’s pleasure than could pos- 
sibly be enjoyed in so short a visit, and then 
just as they were thinking that longer wait- 
ing would be impossible, a handsome car 
sped up the driveway, and Betty, bright, 
laughing Betty, sprang out to greet them. 

After a glad welcome, and much excited 
chatter during which neither had the least 
idea what the others were saying, it occurred 
to Betty that she had not dismissed the 
chauffeur. 

‘‘Oh, I forgot!” she said. “You need not 


8 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


wait, Brayton. You must go right back, and 
tell Mother that I’m here, safe and sound, 
at the loveliest place in the world.” 

‘^All right. Miss Betty,” he said, touching 
his cap, and off he spun, and soon was out of 
sight, hidden by the trees on the avenue. 

‘‘He’ll have to come for 5^ou if you are 
longed-for at home, for we’ll never let you 
leave here unless he does!” declared Doro- 
thy. 

“And wasn’t it funny how I wrote that I 
was coming by train? You see I thought it 
would be fun to come that way, but Mother 
thought it more comfortable than changing 
cars, and so she put off a trip that she had 
planned for herself, and sent me over here 
in our car, and here I am.” 

“And here you are,” repeated Dorothy, 
“and Nancy and I were hoping that nothing 
would happen at the last moment that would 


THREE FOR LUCK 


9 


keep you from us, but we have you now, 
Betty dear, and we are so glad.” 

Mrs. Dainty and Aunt Charlotte gave her 
a loving greeting, and when she went up to 
her room to freshen up after the long trip, 
she found a charming room, all rose-color 
and white, reserved for her, and she sank 
into the low rocker to draw off her gloves, 
while she gazed about. It was a lovely 
room, and everything that could add to her 
comfort was there. She went over to the 
window and looked out. How beautiful 
was the great garden, with its giant trees, 
its wealth of flowers. The breeze that blew 
in was the hot breeze that August always 
gives. 

Betty chose a cool green muslin frock, and 
having tied her hair with a ribbon that 
matched it, she ran down the stairway, and 
out on the porch. 


10 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


‘‘Over here!’’ called Dorothy, and Betty 
ran to join them. 

It was cool out under the trees, and the 
big red hammock easily held three, while 
little Fluff sat on the path facing them, and 
looked from one face to the other as if try- 
ing to imderstand what they were saying. 

“Tell us the news since we left Foam 
Eidge,” said Dorothy; Nancy adding, “It’s 
only a little while since we left there, but I 
suppose a few things have happened.” 

“Oh, ever so many things have happened, 
and I’d like to tell them all at once, but I 
can’t, so I’ll tell you first about Oeraldine. 

“You know she and her aunt went up to 
New York before you left. They wanted 
to know the earliest date when Oeraldine 
could begin to study dancing with the man 
who taught Nancy. 

“Mrs. Carrolton knew that Mrs. Dainty 


THREE FOR LUCK 


11 


told her that Bonfanti lived on a horrid 
street, and that she would not advise any one 
to go there. That Nancy studied with him 
only because her old Uncle Steve had stolen 
her and placed her there. She told her, 
besides, that Nancy’s mother was a great 
dancer, so it was natural for Nancy to dance. 
You know that Greraldine was clumsy when 
she tried to do ordinary dances, so how must 
she have looked trying fancy dancing ! 

“Well, less than a week after you left, 
Mrs. Carrolton and Geraldine came back to 
Foam Ridge. 

“They set out to see Bonfanti, but one look 
at the dark, dirty alley where he lived made 
them believe all that Mrs. Dainty had said. 

“Then some one told them of another 
teacher, who charged a huge price for in- 
struction, and whose name was well known. 
They went to him, and were more angry 


12 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


than before, for after looking sharply at 
Geraldine for a few moments, he turned to 
Mrs. Carrolton and said: 

‘Madam, it is of no use any. No girls 
wid dem feets and dose arm could dance. 
You know not dat ? You should. You have 
only to look. 

“ ‘ It is enough. Good day. ’ 

“You wouldn’t have thought she would 
have told that,” said Betty, “but she was so 
mad that she had to tell some one, and Ger- 
aldine went up and down the beach telling 
that she thought it odd that dancing-teachers 
were so dull. That three of them had told 
her that they did not think that she could 
do fancy dancing. 

“ ‘Did they let you try?’ Susannah 
Searles asked, and Geraldine said: 

“ ‘Of course they did, and they told 
Aunty that I was naturally awkward, and 


THREE FOR LUCK 


13 


that I had no idea of keeping time to the 
music. The idea! I’m great on time. I 
should think he might have seen that.’ ” 

No wonder the three little friends laughed 
at the thought that Geraldine could surely 
dance, only no one was interested to teach 
her. 

‘‘Now let me tell you about Antony Marx. 
Last Sunday he passed the hotel on the way 
to Sunday School. He was all dressed up, 
and he looked just like a dark, handsome 
city boy. 

“Archie St. Clair and Geraldine were on 
the big hotel piazza, and Archie did a mean 
thing. You know he is pale and sissy look- 
ing, and when he saw Antony, I suppose he 
was jealous because Antony looked so fine 
and strong, so he shouted at him : 

“‘Say, haven’t you forgot your fish 
basket?’ 


14 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 

‘‘Antony clenched his fists tighter, bnt 
he didn’t answer Archie at all. 

“A few days after that Archie got into 
an old boat that was high and dry on the 
sand, and after a while he fell asleep. Be- 
fore he awoke the tide had come in and the 
old boat was just starting out to sea. It 
would rock and sway when the big wave 
struck it. Then it would dance a little way 
toward the sea when the wave ran back. 

“He didn’t dare to climb out when the 
waves retreated, for fear of wetting his feet, 
and yet every time the boat slid a bit he knew 
that he was fioating a little farther toward 
the sea. 

“It did look silh^ that a boy as big as he 
was would sit in that boat and just whimper, 
instead of jumping out while he had the 
chance.” 

“But he never acted as if he were at all 


THREE FOR LUCK 


15 


brave/’ Dorothy said, ‘‘but,” with a kind 
thought she added, “perhaps that was be- 
cause he wasn’t well.” 

“Dorothy, you’re a dear,” said Betty, 
“and you’d make an excuse for any boy or 
girl that you know, but one thing is sure, 
Antony wouldn’t act like a sissy if he was 
sick. 

“Well, to go on with the story. When 
the waves succeeded in getting the boat out 
into the surf, Archie simply shrieked. Just 
then Antony, rowing the Shell, came flying 
over the waves, singing gayly : 

“ ‘Oh, a sailor life is the life for me. 

Look, my lads, how the wind blows free, 
Over the foam we gayly ride, 

A sailor ^s lass is a sailor’s pride.’ 

‘ ‘ ‘ Hello ! What ’s the matter ? Got a crab 
down in the bottom of the boat a-nipping 
your toes?’ shouted Antony, laughing. 


16 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 

‘Help me! Get me back to shore!’ 
howled Archie. 

“ ‘Oh, is that all?’ said Antony. ‘If I 
get you back on land, how long will it be 
before you call me “Fishy” and poke fun 
at my clothes?’ ” 

‘ ‘ That served him just right, ’ ’ said N ancy. 

“And what did he say?” Dorothy asked, 
repeated Betty, laughing. “Why, 
he just wailed: 

“ ‘Hurry, hurry! I promise never to say 
those things again!’ 

“Antony rowed alongside, tied the other 
boat to the Shell, and then rowed ashore. 

“When the boats were beached, Antony 
took hold of Archie St. Clair’s collar, and 
lifted him out like a little dog. 

“ ‘Oh, thank you,’ he began, but Antony 
just put out his hand as if to say: ‘Stop 
that. ’ 


THREE FOR LUCK 


17 


‘But I’m so grateful,’ whined Archie. 

“ ‘You can prove that by keeping your 
promise,’ said Antony. He sprang into his 
own boat and rowed off toward the point, 
singing : 

‘Oh, a sailor’s life is the life for me.’ ” 

“Archie ought to keep his promise,” said 
Dorothy. 

“Don’t worry about Archie,” Betty said, 
with a laugh, “for already he’s bending him- 
self nearly double when he says ‘Grood 
morning’ to Antony, if they happen to meet. 

“There’s other news,” said Betty, “but 
I can’t seem to think what it is now.” 

“Well, we’ll have a lovely time while 
you’re here, Betty, but right now I wish we 
had some smart news to tell. We’ve not 
seen many of the boys and girls since we 
came home, so if there’s news, we haven’t 
heard it,”^said Nancy. 


18 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 

‘‘Oh, 00 ! We have a bit of news that we 
can tell!” cried Dorothy, springing from the 
hammock, and dancing around. 

“What is'it*?” questioned Nancy, her eyes 
wide with surprise. 

“Patricia Lavine has decided what kind 
of a dog her pet is, and she says it’s a Pick- 
an-dish Spanrel!” 

“Why, Dorothy Dainty, that funny-look- 
ing dog that she picked up at Glenmore 
wasn’t any special kind of a dog. He was 
just ‘dog,’ that’s all,” Betty said. 

“Well, that’s what she calls him now, and 
the boys keep asking her to tell them just 
what kind he is, so she’ll say it again, and 
then they simply roar. Jack Tiverton 
delights in teasing her. I do wish he 
wouldn’t,” Dorothy concluded. 

“Oh, Dorothy, how I do wish that you 
and Nancy were coming back to Glenmore.” 


THREE FOR LUCK 


19 


‘‘I’d like to be with you, Betty, and there 
were ever so many nice girls there that we 
liked, and would be glad to see again, but 
we became homesick, and, truly, this year 
I’m glad we’re to be at home.” 

“And a lovely home it is,” said Betty. 


CHAPTER II 


A JOLLY AFTERNOON 

1 HAVE a little surprise for you 
to-day,’’ Mrs. Dainty said one 
morning. ^Ht is too early to give 
a large party,” she continued, ‘^but not a 
bit too early to invite a few merry friends 
to meet Betty, and every invitation that I 
sent out has been promptly accepted.” 

‘^Oh, what a lovely surprise!” said Doro- 
thy and Nancy as if with one voice. 

‘‘And I never dreamed — ” Betty hesi- 
tated, but her eyes were bright. 

“Of course you didn’t dream, dear,” Mrs. 
Dainty said, “so you will enjoy the gay 
party all the more. I rather think the lively 


20 


A JOLLY AFTERNOON 21 

guests will be prompt at five this afternoon, 
so you three little girls must be nicely 
dressed and ready to receive the first one 
that appears.’’ 

‘^To-day!” said Dorothy. 

‘‘This afternoon!” said Nancy. 

“At five o’clock!” chimed in Betty. 

Mrs. Dainty looked from one bright face 
to the other, enjoying their delight. She 
had meant to surprise them, and she had 
succeeded. 

“It is to be an outdoor and indoor party,” 
she said, “and I set the hour at five because 
it will be beginning to be cool by that time, 
and growing cooler all the time.” 

“There’ll be music?” Dorothy asked. 

“Music and fiowers and a little feast, 
dear,” Mrs. Dainty said. “All the impor- 
tant things are arranged, but some little 
matters need my attention, so I’ll leave you 


22 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 

to enjoy the morning together, while I make 
everything complete.” 

It was too sultry to enjoy lively games, so 
they strolled up one shady path and down 
another until they reached the fountain, 
where they sat down upon a long marble 
seat. 

They felt cooler watching the spray, and 
Nancy proposed that they take turns telling 
fairy tales. 

remember one that is all about a 
fountain, and it’s called ‘The Fountain of 
Life,’ ” said Nancy, “so I’ll tell that.” 

She told the story well, and they enjoyed 
it. 

“My turn next,” said Dorothy, “and I’ll 
tell about the Princess Plutterlocks, who 
was changed into a fountain.” 

It proved to be a lovely story, but when 
Betty’s turn came, she stared at Dorothy, 


A JOLLY AFTERNOON 


23 


then at Nancy, then she shook her head. 

could listen for hours while you are tell- 
ing them,’’ she said, ^‘but I never could tell 
a story so it would he interesting. I love to 
read, and I remember what I read, but I 
think I spoil it by the way I repeat it.” 

‘^Then we’ll tell more stories if you enjoy 
hearing them,” Dorothy said, but for a time 
they fell to wondering how many guests had 
been on the list that Mrs. Dainty had mailed, 
and in eagerly talking about the party the 
forenoon fled, so that just when Nancy re- 
membered that they were to tell more fairy 
tales for Betty’s delight, they were called 
in for lunch. 

Much had happened while they had been 
out in the sunny garden. 

The old gardener, under Mrs. Dainty’s 
direction, brought potted plants of every 
sort, foliage plants, flowering plants and 


24 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


trailing vines, and placed them in the great 
hall, the dining-room, the living-room and 
drawing-room, making the house a bower of 
glowing color. 

After lunch the time seemed to fly. 

Sweet-scented flowers were needed for the 
table, and Dorothy gathered forget-me-nots, 
Nancy, the mignonette, while Betty brought 
verbenas of every hue, roses, and garden 
pinks, until the tall crystal center-piece 
looked like a fountain of flowers. 

The three little friends were charming, 
when, as it neared five, they stood waiting 
to greet their guests. 

Dorothy in rose-color, Betty in buff, and 
Nancy in light blue stood near the tall clock, 
and Mrs. Dainty smiled as she noticed that 
all three were eagerly watching its hands. 

‘^Five minutes of five! Oh, dear, I do 
hope some of the girls and boys will be early, 


A JOLLY AFTERNOON 


25 


because — There! I hear voices now!” 
cried Dorothy. 

Sure enough, Mollie Merton, Flossie Bar- 
net, Katie Dean, her cousin Reginald, Jack 
Tiverton, and Sidney Herrington came 
trooping in, and so friendly were they, so 
well pleased with Betty, that she felt as if 
she had always known them. Mollie and 
Flossie kept close beside her. 

“My cousin is late,” said Reginald, “but 
he couldn’t be prompt. It takes Harry an 
awful lot of time to get his tie to just suit 
him, and I didn’t have the patience to wait 
for him.” 

“Like my brother,” said Sidney Her- 
rington. “I left him still brushing the tuft 
of hair that always stands on end. Here he 
comes now, and it looks just the same. I 
told him he was wasting time.” 

Tess Haughton came running up the 


26 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


steps. ^‘Come on, Arabella,’^ she called, 
‘‘yon and Leander are late now.’’ 

Arabella never hnrried. 

She was at the far end of the driveway 
when Tess called to her, and it was surely 
fifteen minutes later before she arrived. 

“There’s one more girl than there are 
boys,” some one remarked. One of the 
boys who was standing in the hall began to 
count. 

“Just even,” contradicted a jolly voice. 

“That’s Uncle Harry!” cried Flossie. 
“He said he was coming.” 

“Sure, I was coming,” he declared. 
“Didn’t you tell me last night that one of 
the boys invited had not yet returned from 
his vacation?” he asked of Mrs. Dainty. 

“I certainly did,” said Mrs. Dainty, “and 
you kindly agreed to take his place, and be 
‘one of the boys.’ ” 


A JOLLY AFTERNOON 


27 


do my best,’’ Uncle Harry said in 
such a comically meek tone that they all 
laughed. 

‘‘Well, it’s no joke for a fellow my size to 
take the place of a small boy,” he said. 

“Oh, bnt you’ll do beautifully,” said 
Flossie, in such an encouraging voice that 
they all laughed, and just at that moment 
sweet music floated down the hall. 

No one had seen the musicians arrive, but 
there they were on the carved gallery over 
the stairway, and sweetly they played with 
harp and violins. Now, with light drums 
and bells, they played a fox-trot, and the 
children found that a canvas had been 
stretched over the floor of the living-room 
that they might dance. 

Jack Tiverton lost no time in asking Betty 
to dance, and down the room they spun, Reg- 
inald with Dorothy, Flossie with tall, hand- 


28 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 

some Uncle Harry. Katie Dean with her 
cousin, Reginald, Mollie with Sidney Her- 
rington, his brother, Arthur, with Tess 
Haughton. 

Arabella, staring through her spectacles, 
and her tall cousin, Leander, were the only 
ones who did not dance. 

It was a pretty sight, but Arabella did not 
think so, and for that there were two very 
good reasons. 

First, she did not care for music, and had 
not the least idea of time. The second rea- 
son was even stronger, and that was that 
she never could bear to see any one do any- 
thing that she hers'elf could not do. 

She looked up at Leander, sure that he 
would agree with whatever she said. 

Looks sort of silly, doesn’t it, Leander, 
bobbing around to music'?” she whispered, 
but Leander gave her a surprise. 


A JOLLY AFTERNOON 


29 


‘‘Looks nice to me,’’ he said; “I guess 
I’ll learn this winter.” 

“Why, Le-ander Correyville!” she said. 
“Are yon crazy?” 

“Yes,” he drawled, “crazy to learn.” 

It was most surprising, because Leander 
had always looked and acted as if he were 
half asleep, and no one had ever known him 
to show the slightest interest in anything, 
yet here he was actually wishing that he 
could do so lively a thing as to dance. 

“Well, if you go to dancing-school, Lean- 
der, you have to show me just a little about 
dancing,” declared Arabella. 

“Ain’t crazy, are you?” drawled Leander. 

“No,” said Arabella, “but I’m sick of not 
taking part in things.” 

It was cool in the great garden now, and 
the little guests ran out to enjoy outdoor 
games. 


30 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


It was a great place for hide-and-seek be- 
cause there were so many delightful hiding- 
places. 

Little Fluff, with a huge pink satin bow 
on his collar, raced ahead to hide behind a 
clump of shrubbery, in order to rush out and 
bark when they overtook him. 

The musicians were now on the great 
piazza, and while the children enjoyed the 
merry games, the music gave them added 
pleasure. 

Whatever the games had been. Jack Tiv- 
erton had kept as close as possible to Betty 
Chase. 

She was so bright, so honestly friendly, 
so full of fun, that he found her a jolly play- 
mate, and he heartily wished that she lived 
in Merrivale. 

And now the musicians were playing a 
lively march, the signal for all to hasten to 
the dining-room and enjoy a little feast. 


A JOLLY AFTERNOON 31 

And a feast it was, indeed. 

Dainty sandwiches, delicious ices and 
cakes, baskets heaped with all kinds of 
fruits, chocolates and bonbons, everything 
that could make the feast tempting. 

Tess Haughton whispered to Arabella, 
who sat beside her: 

‘‘I wonder why Patricia isn’t here? It 
would just suit her.” 

^‘What did you say?” replied Arabella 
so loudly that those who sat near her heard, 
and wondered what Tess had said. 

Tess blushed and stammered, ‘‘Oh, never 
mind,” and although Arabella nudged her 
persistently, she busied herself with her 
bonbons, and talked with those who sat near 
her, but never once did she give slightest 
heed to Arabella. 

After the feast had been fully enjoyed, 
Mrs. Dainty proposed a new sort of game, 


^2 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


and it proved to be a genuine fun-maker. 
It was called, ^‘Hunting for the Princess.” 

‘‘Sidney Herrington will be the first 
prince,” Mrs. Dainty said, “and as this 
game will test your wits I have small blocks 
of paper, and pencils for each of you. Come 
and get them, and then the fun will begin.” 

She placed a gilded paper crown on his 
head, saying: “Here are pencil and paper, 
Sidney, and on it in rhyme you must state 
that you are in search of a princess.” 

They all laughed, because they thought 
that Sidney, quiet Sidney, who detested 
writing a composition, would surely say he 
could not make a rhyme. 

Instead, he took the pencil, and after a 
moment, he laughed and read what he had 
written. 

‘‘I’m no poet, but I’ll search the town 
To find a girl to share my crown.” 


A JOLLY AFTERNOON 


33 


said Mrs. Dainty. 

‘‘Is it you, MollieT’ questioned Sidney. 
Mollie laughed, and bent over her paper, 
finally, with Mrs. Dainty’s help, producing 
this very discouraging rhyme for Sidney : 

‘‘I won’t cook, nor sew, nor mend, 

So I’ll only be your friend.” 

“Is it you, Betty?” questioned Sidney. 

“I can answer without pencil or paper,” 
said Betty. 

“I want a taller prince than you. 

So you may go to Timbuctoo.” 

Sidney joined in the laughter that the 
lines provoked. 

“Here, Jack,” he said, “you take the 
crown and see what luck you have in choos- 
ing a princess.” 

Jack put the crown on his head at a rakish 
angle, bit his pencil, frowning darkly, then 
began to scribble. 


34 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


This is what he wrote : 

hunting for a princess, too. 

Say, Miss Flossie, is it youT’ 

‘‘A bigger prince it sure must be, 

Uncle Harry ^11 do for me,’’ 

replied Flossie. 

Betty Chase, do take my part; 

Will you share my crown and heart?” 

wailed Jack, so comically that Betty had to 
wait until the laughter ceased before she 
could read her reply : 

‘Ht seems to me, of all the boys, 

You really make the greatest noise, 

I ’ll be your princess. With a will 
I ’ll do my best to keep you still. ’ ’ 

At last a princess had accepted, and form- 
ing a ring around Jack and Betty, they 
danced and skipped, singing : 


A JOLLY AFTERNOON 


35 


‘^Eound and round in a merry ring, 

J ack is a prince who ^11 soon be king, 
Good Queen Betty, his life to bless. 

We wish them joy and happiness. 

The game had been a fun-maker, and the 
one that followed awoke shouts of laughter. 

‘‘We will have a comic march next,’’ Mrs. 
Dainty announced. “The girls may choose 
a boy, and the boys will choose a girl. Then 
the couple thus chosen will lead a grand 
march, doing any odd steps or figures that 
occur to them. The others who are march- 
ing must mimic the antics of the leading 
couple.” 

How they clapped and cheered ! 

“We’ve chosen Uncle Harry,” Flossie 
said, a moment later. 

“And we’ve chosen Tess Haughton,” said 
Arthur Herrington. 

“Come, Miss Tess,” said Uncle Harry. 


36 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


‘We’ll lead the march, and we’ll show them 
a lively pace.” 

And a lively pace it proved to be. 
Through the drawing-room and hall, half- 
way up the stairs, and then down again, 
laughing as they went, led the gay couple. 
Again across the hall, out on the piazza, 
across the lawn, sometimes at the left of the 
walk, and sometimes at the right, but always 
doing the funniest figures, the others finding 
it a task to imitate their steps and gestures. 
Twice they circled the fountain, once 
through a tiny grove, over a low bit of wall 
and back again. A zigzag line to the house 
finished the march. 

There was more dancing to sweet music, 
and the boys and girls were sincere when 
they said, as they were leaving, that it had 
been a jolly party. 

“They were all so kind and friendly that 


A JOLLY AFTERNOON: 37 

I did not feel a stranger among them/’ 
Betty said, when the last guest had departed. 

^‘Part of it was yon, Betty dear,” said 
Mrs. Dainty. ^^The boys and girls wanted 
to be nice to yon, bnt yon were very frank 
and friendly, too.” 

“Oh,” breathed Betty, with a flnsh of 
pleasnre, “I like to hear yon say that, Mrs. 
Dainty, becanse I don’t know how to do 
differently, yet one of the girls at Glenmore 
said that I onght to be more reserved. It 
didn’t sonnd pleasant, and it made me nn- 
comfortable, bnt when I told Mother, she 
said: ‘Be jnst yonrself, Betty, and be kind 
and friendly always.’ ” 

“ Yonr mother is right, ” Mrs. Dainty said. 
“Pay no heed to what some foolish girl may 
have said.” 

“Mother said that, too,” said Betty, with 
a langh, “and I’m snre she’s right.” 


38 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


The day after the party Betty, at the far 
end of the garden was walking slowly along 
beside the wall, looking intently under 
shrubbery, and in the grass as if searching 
for something. 

‘‘Here it is!” called a cheery voice, and 
Jack Tiverton looked over the wall, holding 
in his outstretched hand a ball. 

“How do you know that’s what I’m look- 
ing for?” laughed Betty. 

“I’ll give a girl’s reason,” Jack replied, 
teasingly. “I’ll say I know just because.” 

“All right, I’ll keep the ball,” said Betty, 
“but that’s not what I was looking for.” 

“Well, then,” said Jack, “tell me what 
the thing was that you were looking for, and 
I’ll help you hunt for that.” 

“It’s a pin that belongs to Aunt Char- 
lotte,” said Betty. “It disappeared yester- 
day, sometime during the party, or a bit 


A JOLLY AFTERNOON 


39 


earlier. She pinned her lace collar with it, 
and after every one had gone she missed it. 
She came down this path about a half-hour 
before any one had arrived, and she thinks 
it became unclasped, and fell off when she 
stooped to gather some flowers.” 

‘‘We’ll have a great hunt for it,” said 
Jack, “but flrst I want to tell you something. 
I wish you were to stay here always, Betty. 
You’re so honest, and such a playmate. You 
couldn’t manage it, could you, to be our 
classmate here?” 

The boy’s voice was eager. 

“Oh, I couldn’t. Jack,” was the quick 
reply, but the dark eyes showed that she was 
pleased. 

“It’s nice of you to like me, and I couldn’t 
help thinking how friendly the boys and 
girls were. I enjoyed every minute of the 
party, and this surely is a lovely place to 


40 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


stay in, but home is home, J ack, and I have 
to go back. Father and Mother couldn’t 
spare me, and — why. Jack, I couldn’t spare 
them, either.” 

ought to know that,” Jack said, ‘‘but 
I was only thinking of our end of it. As 
we were going home after the party yester- 
day, some one asked how long you were to 
stay with Dorothy, and no one seemed to 
know, but they all said they’d be glad if you 
were to stay always.” 

“Oh, they were good to say that,” said 
Betty, ‘ ‘ and now let ’s hunt for the pin. It is 
such a pretty thing, a little gold oval, fram- 
ing an ivory miniature. It is the head of a 
lovely girl. Oh, I hope we find it! Doro- 
thy and Nancy are hunting indoors, and I 
said I’d search here.” 

Along the walk came the gardener with 
wheelbarrow and hoe, at his daily task of 



“I WISH YOU WERE TO STAY HERE ALWAYS, BeTTY.” — Page 39. 




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A JOLLY AFTERNOON 41 

keeping the great garden in order. A bit 
of rubbish attracted his attention and he 
paused to learn what it might be. 

^^Arrah! Now d’ye moind that!” he ex- 
claimed. ‘^It’s not I nor you that arranges 
sich a nate pile as thot. Phat hov we here ? 
Two shticks, two lamb-bones, a bit av rope, 
an empty shpool that once held thread, an’ 
a lady’s breast-pin. A foine collection, sure, 
an’ Oi know who made it.” 

‘^Why, that is Aunt Charlotte’s pin that 
we’re all hunting for.” 

“Wal, ye don’t hov ter hunt longer, but, 
whisht 1 Here he comes now, the wee, nimble 
imp. Now, thin, ye precious little rashcal! 
Who piled them things there Answer me 
that. Who was it'? Do ye know?” 

‘^Look at Fluff!” cried Betty. 

Erect on his stubby little hind legs he sat, 
whining as if asking for mercy. 


42 DOROTHY AT THE_STONE HOUSE 

“Don’t that bate all?” said John. “How 
can ye punish a dog that’s only a baby dog 
at thot, an’ him lookin’ so repintant? It’s 
all roight, me foine pup. Ye hov me as aisy 
wid ye as Miss Dorothy is, an’ that’s sayin’ 
some.” 

Fluff allowed John to pick up the pin, 
but he snatched the larger of the two bones 
and ran off up toward the house. 

“That’s a foine idee,” shouted John, 
“kape a-runnin’ till ye reach the dhrawin’- 
room, whin ye kin land the bone on the 
pian-y fer safe kapin’.” 

“Yesterday he was chasing butterflies, 
and barking when they flew away over the 
wall,” said Betty. 

“An’ be the same token, ’twas nothin’ so 
lovely as butterflies he was afther this 
mornin’ early. No, indade, it was not. 
’Twas an ould brindle cat, and the way she 


A JOLLY AFTERNOON 


43 


ran down the dhriveway ter git away fr’m 
him wad make ye laugh. Sure, if she once 
turned round the pup wad hov run ter me 
fer pertection. As it was, he chased her up 
an’ down, an’ had a foine time av it.” 


CHAPTER III 


THE HUT ON THE MEADOW 

B etty stood in the gateway, looking 
off across the distant meadows to 
where a thin spiral of smoke curled 
from the chimney of a tiny cottage. 

The morning sunlight filtered through the 
branches overhead, and she put up her hand 
to shade her eyes. 

^‘What’s the sight, Betty questioned 
Jack, who had seen her as he was walking 
along the avenue. 

Reginald said it was wonderful to notice 
how often Jack ‘^happened” to pass The 
Stone House. 

was looking at that little house over 
there, and at the same time wishing that I 


44 


THE HUT ON THE MEADOW 45 

could help Nancy,’’ Betty said, so quietly 
that Jack turned to look at her. 

‘^Why, Betty, any one would think that 
Nancy lived over in the hut. What has that 
place to do with Nancy, and why need you 
help her? I’m ready to do anything for 
Nancy or for you,” he said, ^‘but I don’t 
see why — ” 

‘‘Listen, Jack,” said Betty, “while I tell 
you what happened at Foam Ridge. ” 

Jack’s eyes grew darker when he heard 
how old Bonfanti had shadowed Nancy, and 
he drew a long breath when he heard how 
Mr. Dainty had driven him out of town. 

“But that cottage — ” he interrupted. 

“There’s an old woman living there, who 
pretends to tell fortunes, and she told Nancy, 
or Dorothy, I’ve forgotten which, a lot of 
things that were true, and no wonder she 
could. The maid. Sue, knows her and really 


46 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


believes in her, and Sue is honest, but, oh, 
I do feel sure that that old woman learns 
things from Sue, and then tells them as if 
she were clever enough to tell them by magic 
power.” 

‘ ‘ Does N ancy know the old woman ? ” J ack 
asked in surprise. 

‘‘Only by what Sue has told her, and 
she just tells things for money, and I wish 
I could prove it,” said Betty. “Why, can’t 
you see. Jack, that she’s likely to tell Nancy 
that that horrid old Bonfanti is hanging 
around here, when it’s not true at all, but 
it would frighten Nancy and Dorothy, if 
they heard that.” 

For a moment they were silent. Then, 
like a flash. Jack saw a way in which to 
prove the old woman’s ability, or lack of it. 

“I’ll tell you, Betty, I have it!” he cried. 
“Come on over to the little hut now. You 


THE HUT ON THE MEADOW 47 


know she’s there, for yon saw the smoke 
coming from the chimney. Get that long 
cape you saw Aunt Charlotte wearing yes- 
terday, and don’t tell where we’re going. 
Hurry! Oh, but it’s a big joke, and we’ll 
have huge fun. ” 

The long silk cape lay on the hall settle 
just where Aunt Charlotte had left it the 
night before, and Betty folded it, and tucked 
it under her arm. She felt a bit nervous lest 
the garment be missed, but she told herself 
that she would soon return with it. She 
wondered why Jack had wished her to bring 
it. Surely there was no need for a wrap 
on so warm a morning. She could hear 
Dorothy singing in an upper room, and 
Nancy was probably with her, and she 
slipped out, and across the lawn before they 
should miss her. 

^^Come on,” said Jack, and together they 


48 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


ran to the low wall that separated the great 
garden from the meadow land beyond, 
climbed over, and down on to the narrow 
footpath that led straight to the cottage. 

For a time they trudged along in silence, 
then Betty said: 

‘‘It is so hot this morning, I can’t think 
why you asked me to bring this long cape.” 

“I was just thinking we’d better stop here 
where this willow makes a little shade, and 
I’ll tell you what we’re to do. Just before 
you knock, you put the long cape on, and 
when she comes to the door, ask her to tell 
your fortune.” 

“But what has that to do with Nancy?” 
Betty asked. 

“A whole lot if I prove that she can’t tell 
fortunes,” Jack said. “We’re both dark, 
so we’ll pass for brother and sister, and I’ll 
stand just behind you, and look over your 


THE HUT ON THE MEADOW 49 

shoulder at her, just as if I was awfully 
interested to know what she was telling you. 

‘‘Now, here’s the joke, and it’s a fine way 
to test her. 

“You keep your right arm and hand 
behind you under the cape, while I’ll slip 
my right hand out from under the cape for 
her to read my palm. She’ll think it’s your 
hand, and, if we can keep from laughing, 
we’ll surely trip her.” 

Betty’s eyes twinkled. The trick was 
surely worth the trying. 

Eagerly she slipped the cape over her 
shoulders, and together they hurried toward 
the cottage. 

Their knock was promptly answered, and 
the old woman was willing to tell Betty’s 
fortune, and invited them to enter. 

“Can’t you tell it just as well out here in 
the garden ? ’ ’ Betty asked. 


50 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


hot indoors,” urged Jack. 

^‘Yer sister ’d be cooler with that wrap 
off,” said the old woman. 

^ ‘ Oh, let her keep it on. She likes to wear 
it,” said Jack. 

‘‘Well, children do have queer notions,” 
was the tart reply. “Now let me see yer 
right hand.” 

Out from the silken folds of the cape Jack 
thrust his hand, and Betty had a task to 
keep from laughing when the old woman 
took it and peered through her glasses at it. 

“Ye must play ball,” she remarked. 

“I do,” said Betty, which was true. 

“Do ’no’s I ever see such a strong hand on 
a girl. Wal, let’s see what yer palm has ter 
teU.” 

For a long time she peeped and squinted 
at the hand that she believed was Betty’s 
own, while Betty, under the long cape, could 


THE HUT ON THE MEADOW 51 


feel Jack^s arm shaking, and she feared that 
at any moment, Jack would be unable to 
control the wild laughter that was shaking 
him. 

His face was sober as that of a judge, 
however, as he peeped over Betty’s shoulder. 

One might have thought that all his hopes 
hung upon what the old woman might say. 

‘‘You’re a lucky girl!” was the woman’s 
first statement. 

“You’ll be very tall when you’re grown 
up, like your mother’s people.” 

She paused and looked up at Betty. 
‘ ‘ Seems ter me ye ’re tur ’ble nervous. What 
makes yer hand shake so? There ain’t 
nothin’ ter be af eared of.” 

Betty’s cheeks were fiaming. 

“Take yer cape off. Ye’re too warm. 
Here, le’me help ye off with it.” 

Betty backed away from her. 


52 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 

‘‘No, no!’’ she cried, “I’m to surely keep 
it on.” 

“She has to!” Jack added. “She don’t 
dare to leave it off.” 

“Been sick?” queried the old woman. 

“No,” said Betty. “Please go on.” 

“Yer a queer one fer notions,” said the 
old woman, “but let me see. Yes, ye’ll be 
rich some day. Yer old grandmother, when 
she dies, will leave ye a big fortune, an’ 
ye’ll be either a artist or a fortune-teller, 
jest like me.” 

“Oo-oo!” exclaimed Betty. 

“Better be a artist,” the woman advised. 
“It means more money. I see by yer palm 
that ye’ll sure marry a rich man. That’s 
all there is ter tell. Fifty cents, please.” 

Jack withdrew his hand to get the money 
from his pocket, but Betty, forgetting that 
Jack’s hand should offer it, thrust out her 


THE HUT ON THE MEADOW 53 

own slender hand and dropped the money 
in the woman’s hand. 

Instantly she saw her blunder, for the old 
woman’s face went white with anger, and 
she reached out her bony fist to strike Betty, 
but Betty dodged and ran. 

Jack faced her. 

Would you strike a little girl?” he 
asked, his dark eyes hashing. 

^ ‘ She ’s a cheat, an ’ ye ’re another ! ’Twas 
a boy’s hand, your hand she let me read!” 
shrieked the angry old woman. ‘^I’ll have 
her punished fer playin’ a trick on me. 
Cheatin’ like that!” 

‘‘Is that any worse than pretending to tell 
fortunes when you know you can’t do it, and 
taking folks’ money for it?” said Jack. 

How sturdy he looked, never flinching 
when she lunged toward him. 

“Look out ! ” he warned. ‘ ‘ My father — ’ ’ 


54 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


‘‘Who is yer father, lad?” she asked in a 
different voice. 

“My father is John Tiverton.” 

The woman dropped to her knees, and 
began to whimper. She offered the money 
that Betty had given her, that Jack might 
return it. She feared Lawyer Tiverton, 
who was known to be able and resolute. 

“You can keep that,” Jack said, “but I 
don’t believe you can keep on getting money 
that way. It ’s not fair, ’ ’ and he turned and 
ran to overtake Betty. Half-way across the 
meadow they were glad to stop for another 
taste of the cool shade of the big willow tree. 

“My, but wasn’t it provoking after we 
had heard all she had to say, that I could so 
stupidly forget and put my own hand out 
with the money?” said Betty. “But that is 
just like me. If I get into any scrape at 
school, I never can get out of it. I always 


THE HUT ON THE MEADOW 55 


am sure to let something out that gives me 
away.’’ 

‘^That’s because you’re so honest, Betty, 
that you don’t know how to be sly,” Jack 
said. And now they saw Dorothy and 
Nancy racing toward them. 

‘‘We’ve been hunting everywhere for you, 
Betty,” Dorothy said. 

“And I wouldn’t wonder if Nancy had 
been hunting for Aunt Charlotte’s cape,” 
said Betty, “but wait until we find a cool 
place in the garden, and I’ll tell you where 
I’ve been with it.” 

“They couldn’t guess in a month,” said 
Jack. “Whew ! But we had a happening ! ’ ’ 

Together they told how Jack had thrust 
his hand forward from the silken folds of 
the cape, and how the old woman, believing 
it to be Betty’s hand, had pretended to read 
her fortune. 


56 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 

^‘And she said I’d be tall, like mother’s 
people, when I’m grown np, and — well, the 
joke is that mother’s people are all short.” 

‘‘And she said yonr grandmother, when 
she died, would leave you a fortune,” said 
Jack. 

“But that was rather queer because both 
my grandmothers died before I was born. 
Oh, and I almost forgot to tell you, that I’m 
to be an artist, or a fortune-teller, just like 
her. I think I’d prefer to be an artist, but 
there’s only one thing that makes that im- 
possible. I’ve not the least scrap of talent 
for drawing or painting. 

“And there’s one thing more that she told, 
and that was that I am to marry a rich man. ” 

“Well, you’ll have to wait some time to 
prove that,” said Jack, “but say, girls! 
What do you think of a woman who gets 
money that way*?” 


THE HUT ON THE MEADOW 57 


‘^Why, she’s mean to do it,” said Doro- 
thy, ‘‘but I would have liked to see Jack’s 
hand held out in place of yours, Betty.” 

Nancy laughed at the joke, but after a 
pause she said: “I’m glad I know that she 
isn’t worth listening to.” 


CHAPTER IV 


PATKICIA LAVINE 

P ATRICIA stood beside a low wall 
that stretched from the corner of 
the narrow street on which her aunt 
lived, to the pretty bridge that spanned the 
winding river. She was undecided as to 
what to do. 

“Ye kin stay out till I^m ready fer ye ter 
help me,’’ her aunt had said, “an’ don’t go 
so fur off that ye can’t hear me when I 
holler,” she added, “fer ye well know that 
when I want ye, I do want ye!” 

“I know it,” Patricia had replied, and 
now she stood sullenly kicking pebbles into 
little heaps, and wondering if it would be 
safe to race up the street, before her aunt 


58 


PATRICIA LAV IN E 


69 


could stop her. She would not dare to re- 
turn before nightfall. What would her 
aunt do when she returned That part of it 
was not pleasant to think of. She decided 
to go back to the little yard, and while she 
waited to be called in, give the pup a little 
more training. 

He surely needed it. 

When Patricia told him to lie down he 
was usually seized with a lively desire to go 
somewhere, and would prance about her, 
barking shrilly all the time. He was always 
glad of an invitation to go for a walk until 
Patricia put on his leash, when he would 
sit down, and refuse to budge. 

Patricia started toward the house, but 
the pup turned to race toward the bridge. 
The leash slipped from Patricia’s hand, and 
Algernon was off at a mad gallop, his short 
legs fairly flying. 


60 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


At the corner of the next street an empty 
keg lay in the gutter where it had fallen 
from a passing team. Algernon dodged 
around it, Patricia tripped over it, scram- 
bled to her feet, and was off in pursuit, the 
pup gaining speed every moment. 

A thin, angular woman leaned from an 
attic window, and shouted : 

‘ ^ Patricia ! Pa-f n-cia ! N ow, don ’t that 
jest beat all? The louder I call, the faster 
she runs!” 

She closed the window, and went down the 
narrow stairway to the back door, and 
looked out, 

Patricia was not in sight. 

^‘DidnT know but she might hev come 
back,” said the woman, ‘‘but I ought ter 
have known better.” 

She shaded her eyes with her hand. “I 
must make her mind,” she said. 


PATRICIA LAV IN E 


61 


Patricia had not once thought that her 
aunt might be calling to her, and continued 
chasing Algernon, until, nearly breathless, 
she sat down upon the wall, whereupon, the 
pup, having tired of the race, came running 
back, and crouched on the ground at her 
feet. His wide-open mouth made him look 
as if he considered the whole matter a fine 
joke, and was broadly grinning at it. 

^^You little tease!’’ said Patricia, ^H’ll 
make you wish you hadn’t run away! I’ve 
a piece of our old clothes-line in my pocket, 
and I’ll tie that to your collar and make you 
wear that home. I meant to lengthen the 
leash with it, but now I won’t. I’ll make 
you wear it!” 

Patricia was not in a pleasant mood. She 
had thought Algernon quite fine until she 
had seen Dorothy’s little dog, Fluff,” 
when she had at once become envious. She 


62 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


knew that she could not purchase a dog like 
that. That would cost too much. 

She had wondered if a handsome collar 
would make the pup look finer. No, he’d 
be the same comical pup whatever his collar 
might be. Underneath the rope that she 
had thrust into her pocket, were a few 
cookies that she had snatched from the 
closet. 

She broke off a bit and tossed it to the 
pup, who promptly swallowed it whole, and 
looked for more. 

Another small dog that had been watch- 
ing the feast from a distance, approached 
cautiously, and looked up at Patricia with 
eyes that begged for a bit. She tossed him 
a small piece of cookie, then another, and 
another bit, until Algernon began to whim- 
per lest he was not getting his share. 

The newcomer was only a pup, and when 


PATRICIA LAV IN E 


63 


he saw no more cookie coming his way, he 
licked his chops over the treat that he had 
enjoyed, and walked over to scrape acquaint- 
ance with Algernon, who edged away, a bit 
afraid of the stranger. He finally decided 
that he had nothing to fear, and soon the 
two were playing together. 

Patricia watched their antics, laughing at 
their clumsy sport. 

Whose dog are you*?’’ she asked, then. 

^^Why, you’ve no collar on!” she cried. 
‘‘Well, then. I’ll take you home and call you 
mine, and I’ll walk through Merrivale with 
two dogs! I guess that’s sweller than one 
dog, no matter how fine he is. Any one 
could have one dog, but there’s not another 
girl in town that has two.” 

That was just like Patricia. She always 
thought quantity far more important than 
quality. A hat with a few fine fiowers was 


64 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


not half so pleasing to her as a coarse 
straw loaded with cheap flowers. Now, the 
thought of parading through the town with 
two pups to accomjjany her fllled her silly 
little heart with delight. 

‘‘I wonder what Aunty’ll say when she 
sees us coming? Oh, I forgot! She cer- 
tainly told me to stay near the house. I 
wonder if she has been calling me? Well, 
anyv^^ay, I didn’t simply run away. I had 
to chase Algernon for fear I’d lose him, and 
I’m glad I did, for I found this other el’gant 
dog, so I now have two.” 

She drew the short length of clothes line 
from her pocket. 

The pup looked as if he wondered what 
she intended to do, and edged away. She 
coaxed and petted him, and he allowed her 
to tie one end of the rope around his neck. 

‘‘I’m going to call you ‘ Lionel, ’ ’ ’ she said. 


PATRICIA LAV IN E 


65 


and the pup wagged his tail as if he did not 
care whether his name was to be Lionel or 
Ebenezer, so long as he had found some one 
who cared to own him. 

The walk home was vexing, and it looked 
as if it would be some time before either 
pup would agree peaceably to wear the col- 
lar and leash. 

Algernon yanked and pulled in an effort 
to slip his collar and escape, while Lionel 
sat down in the middle of the road, and with 
his hind paw tried to scratch off the offend- 
ing rope. 

^‘If we don’t get home pretty soon. Aunty 
will be out after us,” said Patricia. 

Lionel wanted to go, while Algernon sat 
down in the road. 

dear!” cried Patricia. ^‘Will they 
ever learn to mind?” 

It occurred to her that if her aunt were 


66 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


angry, it would not be a good time to appear 
with another pet, so she went around by a 
back street, and entered the yard by the rear 
gate. She could not have done worse, for 
as she turned to close the gate behind her, 
her aunt appeared in the back doorway, her 
sharp eyes fairly blazing. 

^‘Well, if you ain’t ’nough ter try the 
patience of a saint, Patricia! Here I’ve 
been callin’ an’ shoutin’ ter ye the entire 
forenoon, an’ when ye do at last appear, 
ye’re luggin’ home another cur with ye. 
D’ye think this house is a animal cage or a 
hotel f er dogs of all kinds ? 

‘‘Well, it ain^t, an’ let me tell ye, I ain’t 
goin’ ter feed every stray cur ye choose ter 
lug home.” 

“You don’t have to,” Patricia said, 
sturdily. “You said you wouldn’t feed 
Algernon, so I’ve bought food for him out 



O dear! ” CRIED Patricia. “Will they ever learn to mind ?” 

Page 65. 


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PATRICIA LAV IN E 


67 


of my ’lowance that Pa sends me. I can 
feed Lionel, too.’’ 

‘^Snch names fer pups! My! Ef some- 
body giv ye a third one, ye couldn’t dodge 
naming him ‘Maximilian.’ ” 

“I would if I wanted to,” snapped Pa- 
tricia. 

“Well, le’me tell ye now, don’t ye dare 
ter lug home ’nother pup, fer I won’t stand 
it. Where d’ye mean ter keep this one?” 

Patricia knew that that was the same as 
saying that Lionel might stay, so she an- 
swered, slowly: 

“I thought the two pups could stay out in 
that little shed next your hen-coop.” 

“That’ll be rather cool in winter.” 

“When it’s cold I’ll let them stay all 
night in my room.” 

“Good land! What a plan! Well, the 
pups can stand it if you can.” 


68 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


I can,’’ cried Patricia, glad that 
her aunt had not refused to accept Lionel 
as a member of the family. 

‘‘I almost wish I’d named you ‘Maximil- 
ian,’ ” she said as she untied the rope. 

“I s’pose ye could change his name now,” 
her aunt said with an odd smile. 

“I guess I’ll call him Lionel,” Patricia 
said, “because Maximilian would be rather 
hard to call if I wanted him to come right 
in. I don’t think I could say it quick if I 
tried.” 

“Well, put ’em in the little shed now, and 
come in and help me. I’ve been waitin’ two 
hours fer ye.” 

Patricia dared not object. She was to 
have the fun of keeping both pups, and she 
went toward the house quite willingly. 

That afternoon she bought a collar and 
leather leash for Lionel. With both pups 


PATRICIA LAV IN E 


69 


thus equipped, she believed that training 
them would be easy. 

The next morning they had their first 
taste of discipline, and they heartily dis- 
liked it. 

Algernon seemed to take it as a joke, and 
would roll over on his back and kick, and 
chew the leash, but Lionel took an entirely 
different view of it. He was sulky and 
would crouch on the ground, lick his chops, 
and refuse to stir. 

‘‘You certainly are the most provoking 
creatures that I ever saw. I wonder if you 
know that you are acting silly Well, you 
are!” 

it happened that at that moment both 
pups sprang to their feet. 

“I do believe you know what I said,” she 
cried. 

For a second they eyed her, their ears 


70 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 

erect, then out of the yard and up the street 
they bolted, Patricia after them at top speed. 

Now that they chanced to feel like mov- 
ing, it was just the time to overtake them, 
catch their leashes, and parade through the 
town with her two pets. 

Algernon stumbled over a small, dry 
branch that had fallen from a tree, Lionel 
paused to examine it, and Patricia took the 
chance to grasp their leashes. 

Off they bolted, Patricia screaming for 
them to stop. 

It was just when they were nearing The 
Stone House that a droll thing happened. 

Patricia was holding her chin very high, 
and trying to follow the galloping pups with 
dignity, when suddenly Algernon put on 
speed, while Lionel decided to hang back. 

For a short distance she endured it, 
when — - Was that a giggle? There was 


PATRICIA LAV IN E 


71 


no one in sight. She looked this way and 
that, and thought she must have imagined 
it. 

‘‘Come, come she cried, stooping to give 
Lionel a push. 

Algernon turned to learn what was the 
matter, and then the two comical-looking 
pups ducked their naughty heads and away 
they flew, Patricia flnding it a task to keep 
up with them. 

It was not a giggle that followed her. It 
was roars of laughter, and it was more than 
one voice that laughed. 

She looked over her shoulder to make an 
outrageous face, but still there was no one 
in sight. 

“I know where they are,’’ she said. 
“They’re up in those big maple-trees, and 
there ’s at least three boys laughing. I know 
one was Eeginald Dean, and I’m sure one 


72 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 

was J ack Tiverton. I wonder who the other 
one was? Well, whoever they were, I don’t 
care. They’re envious because I’ve two 
lovely dogs.” 

One would have thought the pups tireless, 
but after a half-hour’s romp they became 
quiet, and to Patricia’s delight, started to- 
ward home in a very tractable mood. As 
she was passing Flossie Barnet’s house, she 
saw Jack Tiverton sitting on the stone wall 
whittling. His face was so sober that you 
would have wondered if he knew how to 
laugh. 

see you have two dogs now,” he said. 

‘ ‘ What kind are they ? ’ ’ 

“I’ve told you a half-dozen times that 
Algernon is a Pick-an-dish spanrel, and I 
don’t really know what Lionel is, but I think, 
when he grows up, he’ll be some kind of a 
poach dogP 


PATRICIA LAV IN E 


73 


J ack tried not to laugh, but gave up the 
effort, and simply roared. What bright boy 
could help it ? 

‘^Well, I never!’’ cried Patricia, and for 
a moment she stood looking at the shrieking 
boy, who held his sides, and rocked back and 
forth upon the wall. 

Then she stamped her foot and walked on 
down the avenue. 

The two pups were quite sober now, and 
Patricia was thankful for that. She was 
out of sight of the laughing boy, and near 
the corner of her own street, when Algernon 
stopped, glanced toward Lionel, then made 
pretense of biting him, and round and round 
Patricia they chased each other, winding 
the two leashes so tightly around her ankles 
that she could not step. 

^‘Stop it!” she screamed. ^^Stop it this 
minute!” at the same time turning around 


74 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


and around in an effort to unwind the leashes 
that tied her ankles. 

Up from the back yard of a dingy house 
ran a fat little boy. 

‘‘Oh, thee ’em! Thee ’em!” he cried in a 
thick lisp. “Go it! Go it! Thee ’em make 
the dirt fly!” 

Turning toward the house, he yelled: 
“Mandy! come out here an’ thee the thight. 
The pupth hath wound Patritha up juth 
like a clock, only she can’t go, ’cauth her 
legth ’ith tied!” 

Mandy, a tall, overgrown girl, came rush- 
ing out. 

“Oh, do help me stop them, before they 
knock me down,” wailed Patricia. 

“Is my brother a dirty little pig?” de- 
manded Mandy. “You called him that the 
other day. If ye still think so I won’t help 
ye, but ef ye’ve changed yer mind, I will.” 


PATRICIA LAV IN E 


75 


‘‘Oil, no, no!’’ cried Patricia, regardless 
of the truth, “I ought not to have said it.” 

In a second Mandy’s strong fingers had 
snatched the leashes, one in each hand, ad- 
ministered a smart slap on each pup, and 
they, too astonished to rebel, looked up at 
her as if they wondered why she had meddled 
in what was no affair of hers. 

“’PI was you I wouldn’t go out on the 
street with those two rampageous pups. 
They might trip ye up sometime when there 
was no one ’round to help ye,” Mandy said, 
but Patricia’s courage had returned. 

“Well, the next time I take them up town 
with me,” she said, “I’ll give them more 
training first.” 

“Wal, I mus’ say, Patricia Lavine, ye do 
cut a figger, gal’vantin’ long with two such 
lookin’ pups. Why, ye don’t lead them. 
They haul you. Don’t ye know that?” 


76 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


Patricia made no reply, nor did she thank 
Mandy for helping her. As she turned the 
corner of her street, she heard Chub, the 
dirty little boy, say: 

‘‘Them dogth ith horrid-lookin’ dogths, 
ain’t they, Mandy? I can’t tell which ith 
horrider.” 

“I guess no one could. Why, land! I 
ain’t got no style, but ye couldn’t hire me ter 
go up-town with one of them critters, let 
alone two!” 

Patricia hoped that her aunt had not seen 
their antics, but she had. She was at the 
gate, an odd expression on her face. 

“Guess ye didn’t enjoy yer walk much,” 
she remarked. 

“Well, I did/’ Patricia said stubbornly. 
“They didn’t act as well as they will when 
they get used to being taken out, but they’ll 
behave better all the time.” 


PATRICIA LAV IN E 


77 


‘‘I should hope they would. My new 
neighbor was in one of the big houses up on 
the avenue, where she helps the maids when 
there’s extra work, an’ she said she seen ye, 
whirlin’ ’round jest something redic-lous, 
’n’ she said ye couldn’t help it with them 
pups on the rampage.” 

‘‘Well, I don’t know who she is, but I 
think she’s horrid,” said Patricia. “Every 
one’s jealous because I’ve two lovely pups.” 

“Why, Patricia, ye sure do like ’em, but 
ye must see they’re a funny-lookin’ pair. 
I’m sure I can’t tell which is the worst- 
lookin’. The fust one ye brung home from 
boardin ’-school is a kind of a clown dog, but 
the new one is a reg’lar imp.” 

Patricia made no reply. 

“Seems ter me ye’ve changed the fust 
one’s name, ain’t ye? Didn’t ye call him 
‘Diogenes’ when ye fust brung him home?” 


78 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 

‘‘Why, yes,’^ said Patricia. “I call him 
Algernon now, because I like it better.’’ 

“But he hadn’t learned his other name,” 
said her aunt. 

“Well, I’d like to know if this isn’t just 
the time to change it before he knows any 
name?” 

“Sure,” agreed her aunt, “and before he 
learns this one, ye may have time ter change 
it again. How would ye like ‘Jehosha- 
phat’?” 


CHAPTER V 


WHAT NANCY SAID 

I SN’T it odd that Tess Haughton 
hasn’t been over since the party'?” 
Dorothy said one morning as, with 
Nancy, she was going down the stairway. 

Nancy hesitated, then she said: ^‘Haven’t 
you noticed that Tess never likes to come 
when others are here?” 

‘‘How queer,” said Dorothy, “but now 
you’ve said it, I seem to remember that she 
does stay away when others are with us. I 
wonder why. She surely is always wel- 
come.” 

‘ ‘ I don ’t think it ’s that, ’ ’ N ancy said. ‘ ‘ I 
think it is that she likes best to come when 


79 


80 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 

there no one else here to interest us. I 
mean, I think she wants us to talk to, and 
listen to her. That’s why she doesn’t seem 
as happy at parties as the other girls do. It 
doesn’t sound very pleasant to say, but I’d 
say it only to you, Dorothy.” 

It was as Nancy had said. 

Tess had liked Betty Chase, as had all the 
boys and girls, but she was naturally selfish, 
and really wished to have all attention for 
herself. 

Mollie and Flossie had been constantly at 
The Stone House, and even Katie, who lived 
the farthest away, had been over several 
times during Betty’s visit. 

Soon the delightful visit at The Stone 
House must end, for Betty had that morn- 
ing received a loving letter from home, 
reminding her that she was to return to 
G-lenmore, and that she must be at home that 


WHAT NANCY SAID 


81 


some plans might be made regarding her 
outfit for the school year. 

The boys of the neighborhood were 
already enrolled at the school two stations 
beyond Merrivale, where they would remain 
as pupils until the fire damage at their own 
school had been repaired. 

Aunt Charlotte’s class-room was in readi- 
ness, and its low windows, banked with 
flowers, looked most inviting. Q-ood taste 
was always present with Aunt Charlotte. 

Betty, standing on the porch at the Stone 
House, looked over toward the stone cottage, 
with its windows full of flowers, and wished 
that she might be one of Aunt Charlotte’s 
pupils. 

‘^Even the birds are reminding us that 
school time is almost here,” she said, as 
Dorothy joined her. 


82 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


‘^Just hear those sparrows by the foun- 
tain. As plain as possible they are saying : 

‘ ^ ^ School-keeps ! School-keeps ! 

Tweet ! Tweet ! Tweet ! ’ 

^‘They slant their cunning heads, and look 
at us, as if they wondered if we understood. ’ ’ 

‘‘Well, we do,’’ said Dorothy, “and I wish 
you were to be with us, Betty. I don’t 
want to go back to Glenmore. It was pleas- 
ant there, and there were such nice girls to 
know, but I can’t help being glad that we 
are to be at home this year. For all the 
good times there, I was homesick.” 

“It’s different, Dorothy, for you to be at 
home. Now, Mother is dear, when she is at 
home, but she belongs to so many clubs and 
societies that there would be days and days 
that I’d see her only at meal times if I were 
at home, and not always then, for you see 
there are luncheons at the clubs, and private 


WHAT NANCY SAID 


83 


dinner-parties, so that I often have to eat 
alone in the big dining-room. Eeally, it is 
jollier in the big dining-room at Glenmore, 
with lots of girls to chat with.” 

Betty finished the little speech quite gayly, 
but Dorothy thought that there was just a 
bit of longing in Betty’s brave heart for the 
loving, intimate home life as she saw it at 
the Stone House. It was true. 

On the morning when Betty bid them all 
‘^Good-bye” she seemed her lighthearted 
self. Her eyes were bright when she told 
them how much she had enjoyed her visit, 
and she turned in her seat in the auto to 
wave her hand, and to give them her bright, 
cheery smile, but she was still on the drive- 
way when she leaned forward, and spoke to 
the chauffeur. 

‘^Brayton, is Mother at home to-day? 
Did she send you for me?” 


84 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


Tlie man heard the eagerness in her voice, 
and he answered without turning: ‘‘Yes, 
Miss Betty, she sent me, and she told me to 
say that she expects to be at home when you 
get there, but she wasn’t sure how long the 
club meeting would be. I think she said the 
members was voting to-day.” 

“Oh, yes,” Betty said patiently, and to 
herself she whispered: 

“Mother is sweet, and lovely, and dear, 
only she’s busier than Mrs. Dainty.” 

Betty was a loyal little daughter, and what 
she whispered was true. 

Mrs. Chase was a good mother, and surely 
she was sweet of disposition and lovely to 
look upon. 

Betty was justly proud of her mother, 
whom every one admired, only she allowed 
herself to have so many, many interests that 
she had less time for her home. 


WHAT NANCY SAID 


85 


^ We have fine times in summer,” thought 
Betty, ‘‘and maybe we can go to Foam Ridge 
again. There’s no clubs at the shore.” 

At the Stone House Dorothy was still on 
the porch where Betty had last seen her. 
Nancy was helping Aunt Charlotte, so Doro- 
thy was amusing herself with Fluff. 

“Now, Fluff, sit up!” she was saying. 
“Sit up like a little man,” hut Fluff showed 
not the least interest in acting like a “little 
man.” He thought it twice as amusing to 
tear around like a little dog. 

A tiny girl now appeared on the driveway. 
Her hair was a mass of bright rings, and her 
eyes were the darkest blue. Her frock and 
shoes were white, but her socks were light 
blue. Dorothy sat with her back toward the 
drivewa}^, so she did not see the little visitor 
approaching. The small girl said never a 
word. She had run away, and so was keep- 


86 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 

ing very quiet lest some one hear her and 
overtake her. 

It was Uncle Harry’s wee daughter. 

There!” she cried. corned before 
they ketched me. I’m all a time bein’ 
ketched.” 

^‘Oh, you cunning baby,” cried Dorothy, 
^^did you come to see me?” 

Some I did, and some to see him,” she 
said, pointing to Fluff. 

^^What for you give him your candy?” 
she asked, as Dorothy tossed another bonbon 
to the dog. 

^‘Because he likes them,” Dorothy said, 
at the same time putting some candy in the 
little hand. 

‘‘Well, he don’t eat ’em,” declared the 
little mite. 

“Yes, he does.” 

“No, he donH/’ was the decided answer. 


WHAT NANCY SAID 


87 


‘^The candies fall into Ms monf, and you 
don’t see ’em any more. That’s all.” 

It was only too true. Fluff greedily swal- 
lowed them whole. 

The wee girl was trying to decide whether 
to share her candy with the dog, or keep it 
for herself, when a trim maid came up the 
walk. 

‘‘Ah, now I’ve found ye, little Miss Elfin,” 
she cried. 

“Now, I’ll have to go,” said the small girl. 
“Soon’s I get somewhere somebody comes 
for me.” 

Quite as if she were too used to it to object, 
she let the maid carry her off, laughing as 
she went. Hardly had she gone when Ara- 
bella Correyville came across the lawn. She 
sat down upon the step beside Dorothy and 
commenced to ask a list of questions. 

“Betty Chase went home to-day,” Doro- 


88 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


thy said. ^ ‘ We miss her. She ’s such a j oily 
friend.’^ 

Arabella glared through her goggles, then 
she said: ^^How many pupils will there be 
in Aunt Charlotte’s class?” 

don’t know yet,” Dorothy said. 

Arabella’s rude habit of making no reply 
to what was said always annoyed Dorothy. 

’Spose she’ll have room if an extra one 
wanted to join it?” was the next question, 
don’t know,” Dorothy said again. 

^‘Well, I only thought I’d ask,” Arabella 
said, ^^but it doesn’t really make any differ- 
ence, for Aunt Matilda wants me to go back 
to Glenmore.” 

After a pause she continued : 

^‘She found out that Patricia was there 
with me last year and she was angry, but 
Patricia isn’t going back this year, so that’s 
just why Aunt Matilda is determined I shall 


WHAT NANCY SAID 


89 


go. Father says I don’t have to unless I 
want to, so I think I’ll go for half of the 
year and at Christmas vacation I’ll come 
home and stay.” 

‘^And what is Patricia intending to do*?” 
Dorothy asked. 

Could it be possible that she was wishing 
to remain at Merrivale and ask to join Aunt 
Charlotte’s class? 

‘‘Oh, Patricia is going to take music les- 
sons this winter, and with no school sessions 
to bother her she expects to do wonders. 
You know how she talks.” 

There was a pause. Was Arabella un- 
usually dull this morning, or was she trying 
to think of something unpleasant that she 
could say. 

Little Fluff looked at her as if he won- 
dered what sort of girl it was who did not 
admire or pet him. 


90 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


‘‘Why didn’t you have a big dog?” she 
drawled. “That’s such a little thing.” 

Arabella always criticised or objected. 

“He’s a dear,” said Dorothy, “and I’d 
not want him to be one bit different from 
what he is.” 

“Well, he’s awfully small,” Arabella in- 
sisted. 

“Arabella Corre 3 wille, why do you never 
like a thing the way it isV^ cried Nancy, 
who, unseen by the others, had come from 
the hall on to the porch. It was the best 
thing that she could have said, for Arabella 
stared stupidly for a second, then the color 
flushed her pale cheeks. 

“Is that what you think?” she asked 
slowly, her eyes searching Nancy’s face. 

“I certainly do,” Nancy said firmly, “and 
so do all the girls and boys. Oh, dear, I 
know it doesn’t sound pleasant, but truly. 


WHAT NANCY SAID 


91 


Arabella, that’s the only thing that makes 
the girls keep away from you. They’re 
afraid of what you’ll say next. I’m sure 
you’d have lots of friends if sometimes 
you’d like things instead of objecting.” 

Arabella listened as if she were gaining 
a new idea. 

^‘But s’pose I really don’t like things the 
girls wear, or things they do,” she said. 

“Well, you could think as you pleased, 
but you needn’t always tell what you think,” 
said Nancy. 

“I can’t say I like things when I don’t,” 
Arabella said stoutly. 

“You could keep still, and say nothing 
said Nancy, and to her amazement Arabella 
said, “I’ll try that, and see how it works.” 

She rose slowly, and went down the drive- 
way, without a word, or a glance toward 
Dorothy or Nancy, but she was not vexed. 


92 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


She simply saw herself for the first time as 
her playmates saw her, and she was really 
thinking. Nancy, looking after the odd, 
little figure, had half a mind to run after 
her, throw an arm about her and ask her not 
to feel hurt, but she did not know whether 
Arabella would like that. She was one of 
those girls who would take a rebuke, and not 
seem offended, when pity would really cause 
anger. 

‘‘I meant what I said,’’ Nancy said in a 
low voice, ^^but I didn’t want to make her 
feel bad. I’d half a mind to tell her I was 
sorry I said it, and then I knew that would 
only make it worse.” 

wouldn’t have dared to have said what 
you said to her,” said Dorothy, ^^but she 
listened to you as if what you said must be 
true. It was true, and I wish she would 
try to like a few things. I do think the girls 


WHAT NANCY SAID 


93 


would be more friendly with her, and I’d 
like Arabella to have other friends than 
Patricia.” 

Arabella strolled up the avenue, thinking 
all the way of what Nancy had said, and in 
the most businesslike fashion she was won- 
dering on whom she would first try the 
experiment. 

^Try it on the first person I meet,” she 
said under her breath. 

Leander, having forgotten to take his 
books to school, asked to be excused, and was 
allowed to return home on the promise that 
he would do double work at home, and come 
the next morning wholly prepared. 

He readily agreed, so it happened that he 
overtook Arabella before she reached home. 
He explained why he was not at school, 
adding : 

‘‘And I stopped in the square and bought 


94 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


this new necktie. The red is a good shade 
to go with my suit.’’ 

“Why didn’t yon — It is pretty,” said 
Arabella. She had started to ask why he 
had not made a different choice, when she 
thought of Nancy’s words, and spoke dif- 
ferently. 

Leander stared at her, and gasped. 
“Goodness! Arabella! That’s the first 
thing I ever heard you say you liked. I’m 
glad I chose it.” 

Then even Leander, who seemed to heed 
nothing that was going on around him, had 
noticed her fault. 

Arabella was rather enjoying it. It was 
amusing to see Leander stare in surprise, 
and she wondered how the next person would 
act when she failed to object. The next one 
happened to be Aunt Matilda. 

“Oh, here you are, Arabella,” she said. 


WHAT NANCY SAID 


95 


‘‘I wanted your help this morning, but I 
couldn^t find you. Well, IVe had so much 
to do you’ll have to take a picked-up lunch 
to-day.” 

^^Oh, dear, I — I’d like a picked-up lunch 
to-day,” said Arabella. She had started to 
complain, but just to see if her aunt would 
notice it, she changed the sentence. 

Aunt Matilda dropped the ladle that she 
held in her hand. 

^^Por gracious sakes, whyT’ she said. 

^^Oh, for a change,” said Arabella. 

‘Wou ain’t sick, are you?” questioned 
Aunt Matilda, anxiously. 

‘‘No,” said Arabella, “I feel fine.” 

Leander watched her closely, however, 
and later he slipped out to the kitchen. 

“I say. Aunt Matilda, I’d watch Arabella, 
if I were you. She’s certainly acting queer. 
You know she was queer at lunch, and when 


96 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 

I showed her the new tie I’d just bought, 
instead of objecting, she actually said she 
liked it.” 

^^I’ll keep an eye on her,” Aunt Matilda 
replied, ^‘and it won’t do any harm if you 
watch her, too.” 

‘‘I will,” said Leander. 


CHAPTER VI 


TESS 

W HAT if the wind blew chill ? The 
sunlight streamed across the 
class-room at the stone cottage. 
Aunt Charlotte, at her desk, bent over an 
open book, in w^hich she sought something 
that would be interesting to read aloud when 
the lesson hours were over. 

The soft gray silk of her gown was won- 
derfully becoming, and she did not know 
that little Fluff had sneaked in at the half 
open door, and now sat on a fold of the silk 
that lay on the floor. He was looking 
eagerly up at her, as if wondering how any 
book could hold a reader’s attention so com- 
pletely that she could not notice him. 

97 


98 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 

The pupils were writing, and the scratch, 
scratch of their pens made the only sound 
in the room. It was the first week, and they 
were writing answers to a long list of ques- 
tions that Aunt Charlotte had placed on the 
board. 

Dorothy and Nancy had been at Glen- 
more, while the other pupils had had very 
different training at the public school at 
Merrivale, and the questions, covering dif- 
ferent subjects, had been chosen with a view 
to arranging the course of study for the few 
months that they would be in the cottage 
class-room. 

Aunt Charlotte Grayson, in her younger 
days, had been principal and owner of a 
large academy for girls ; later she had been 
governess and private instructor to Mrs. 
Dainty, and her former pupil held her in 
high esteem, and knew her skill. 


TESS 


99 


The sunlight lay on the geranium clusters, 
rose-color, white, and red, then streaming 
farther, it touched Dorothy’s bright hair, 
brought out the warm chestnut in Nancy’s 
dark curls, and turned to bronze the crin- 
kling locks that Tess impatiently pushed 
back as often as they fell forward, while 
she bent over her desk. 

‘‘Each one interesting, and each in a way 
all her own,” Aunt Charlotte whispered. 

“Wow!” answered Fluff. 

Every one jumped, and then laughed to 
think that a tiny dog could so have startled 
them. 

Having awakened the pupils to the fact 
that he was present. Fluff sprang upon a low 
stool beside the desk and soon was fast 
asleep. 

Some of the girls smiled as they bent over 
the page upon which they were writing, as 


100 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


if secure in the knowledge that they could 
correctly answer the long list of questions 
upon the hoard; others frowned as if com- 
pletely puzzled. The quaint little clock 
upon the wall chimed softly, as if it did not 
wish to disturb any one. 

‘‘Twenty minutes recess,” sounded wel- 
come to the little pupils, who had been writ- 
ing since nine o’clock. 

“An hour and a half!” said Mollie, “and 
my fingers arenas cramped as if I’d been 
writing a week.” 

“My fingers aren’t cramped,” said Katie 
Dean, “but they’re covered with ink. I do 
believe I put more ink on my fingers than 
I do on my paper. Even that isn’t as bad 
as my cousin, Reginald, does. He says he 
never puts his pen in his mouth, but when- 
ever he writes he manages to get ink on his 
lips.” 


TESS 


101 


Don’t yon wonder how the boys like their 
new school?” said Nancy. 

‘‘I don’t wonder, because I know,” said 
Katie. Reginald says the teacher is 
awfully cross, and whenever the boys from 
Merrivale are late, he fusses and scolds about 
it, and although the train is nearly always 
late he seems unwilling to believe that that 
is the reason that our boys are not on time.” 

^^Well, they have the lovely long walk 
from the train that they thought would be 
so delightful,” said Tess Haughton. 

^^And it truly is a lovely walk when the 
day is fine,” said Flossie, ^^but after the 
last heavy rain we had, Reginald said that 
the path through the grove was under water, 
and they thought they’d never get through 
the grove because they were obliged to go 
such a roundabout way to find old logs, or 
tree-roots, to step on.” 


102 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 

‘‘It’s really too bad to laugh, but Ara- 
bella’s cousin, Leander, is awfully slow, and 
he is so near-sighted, that while he can see 
an object a bit distant, he can’t tell what it 
is until he’s almost on to it,” said Tess. 
“That day that the walking was so sloppy, 
he was tramping through the grove with the 
other boys, when a funny thing happened. 
He was poking along ’way behind the others, 
when they heard a splash, and they turned 
around, and there was Leander in a big 
puddle, moving his arms and legs just as if 
he was trying to swim. 

“ ‘Good gracious, Leander! You can’t 
swim in a puddle six inches deep,’ shouted 
Sidney Herrington. 

“ ‘Go ’way!’ howled Leander, ‘who ex- 
pects to swim ? I stumbled over a tree-root 
that I didn’t see, and here I am as helpless 
as a turtle, reaching out trying to get hold 


TESS 


103 


of something to help myself with, while you 
fellows stand there and roar.’ 

<< ‘We’ll help you,’ said Sidney, but Lean- 
der was too angry to accept help from any 
one at that moment, and he finally scrambled 
out, and tramped back home to change his 
clothes.” 

heard something just now that will 
surprise you all,” said Dorothy, who had 
just joined the group. She said it so quietly 
that the chatterers all paused to listen. 

‘‘What is it, Dorothy*?” said Nancy. 

“Tell us,” cried three voices at once. 

“You all know Leander moves slowly, and 
most of you thinly he is slow to learn, but 
Aunt Charlotte just told me that the in- 
structor at school in whose class Leander 
studies, sent a list of names to the Merrivale 
Times, of the new pupils who were exam- 
ined for admission to his school, and Leander 


104 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


Correyville was at the head of the list. His 
average was ninety-eight.” 

‘‘We’ll never call him slow again,” said 
Mollie Merton. 

Some one spoke of Betty Chase, and while 
they were talking of her, Tess quietly slipped 
out of the room. No one saw her go, so busy 
were they in talking of their friend, until 
Katie Dean went out into the hall to look 
for her handkerchief that she had either 
dropped or had left in her coat pocket. A 
large screen stood near the class-room door, 
and behind it stood Tess. 

Was Tess listening? If so, what did she 
expect to hear? 

It was a strange habit that made this 
girl often leave a group of friends to stand 
and listen, as if thus she might hear 
something not intended for her ears. She 
was such a pleasant girl, and so well liked 



Was Tess listening?— Pa^re 104 : 



TESS 


105 


that it seemed odd that she should have such 
a queer habit. 

Katie, on her way back to the class-room, 
could not help thinking again of Tess 
Haughton as she had seen her, waiting 
behind the screen. 

‘‘I like her,’’ thought Katie, ‘‘but I do 
wonder what makes her so often seem to be 
listening'?” 

Katie soon forgot the happening, because 
when she reached the class-room Tess was 
laughing and talking as gayly as the others, 
and soon they were again at their desks, as 
hard at work as before. 

Nancy paused, looking up from the page 
that she was writing. She was trying to 
recall the correct spelling of a word that she 
wished to use. 

Something moving attracted her attention 
and she turned just in time to see Tess 


106 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 

Haughton looking toward the open window, 
and making most peculiar gestures. 

Across the street stood Patricia, and 
surely no one ever saw funnier motions than 
she was making. It was easy to see that 
Tess understood them, for she nodded to 
Patricia, and then raised her hand to Aunt 
Charlotte. 

‘‘May I go now?’’ she asked. “It’s a bit 
early, but I’ve answered all the questions, 
and there’s an errand I’d like to do.” 

“I can give you something to do that will 
occupy the remaining half-hour of the ses- 
sion,” Aunt Charlotte said, “and you may‘ 
take this seat away from the window. You 
cannot see Patricia from there, so you will 
not feel obliged to answer her signals.” 

Tess flushed and pretended to wipe her 
pen anxiously before putting it away. She 
had not dreamed that her flnger-motions or 


TESS 


107 


Patricia’s antics had been seen. It was 
annoying to have been caught when she had 
thought herself unnoticed. Now Aunt 
Charlotte would watch her, and there would 
be no more chances for making signs to 
Patricia when she passed. Patricia enjoyed 
being with Arabella, because Arabella would 
do exactly as she was told, but sometimes 
she tired of her slow ways, and within a short 
time she had become very friendly with Tess. 
To be sure, Tess had a will of her own, but 
she was wide awake and ready for a frolic. 

Patricia had left the two dogs at home, 
and had hurried to meet Tess. 

“You can get out before school closes,” 
she had said. ^ ‘Just say you have an errand 
to do. Wait till you see me, and then ask.” 

“I have an errand to do on the way home 
from school,” Tess replied, “but why can’t 
you wait until we are dismissed ? ” ‘ 


108 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 

‘‘My goodness! Why, it’s twice the fnn 
if yon get ont early, and — ” 

“Well, come on over,” Tess had replied, 
“but don’t be angry if you have to wait till 
after school.” 

“Oh, you can get out early if you’re 
smart,” Patricia had said. 

They had made the plan on the day before, 
and they thought it a fine one. It proved 
to be like many schemes, — its only fault 
was, — that it didn’t work. 

Standing on the sidewalk, and looking 
toward the window where she had seen Tess, 
Patricia wondered why she was so slow to 
appear at the door. She had seen Tess rise 
from her seat, and thought that she had been 
given permission to leave. 

Patricia shifted from one foot to the other, 
and finally stamped with impatience. 

“Why does she poke so, just putting on 


TESS 


109 


her coat and hat ? She might have put her 
hat on, and then come along with her coat 
on her arm,’’ she muttered. ^‘Anyway, it’s 
lucky that Aunt Charlotte didn’t see me.” 

Aunt Charlotte well knew that impatient, 
easily vexed Patricia would find a half- 
hour’s waiting out there alone far from 
pleasant. She had at first thought of tell- 
ing Patricia to go away, then she decided to 
let her remain if she chose. She would be 
less likely to repeat the offense. 

At that very moment Patricia was saying 
in an undertone: ‘‘You just wait, Tess 
Haughton, until I come ’way over here 
again!” 

Patricia believed that of her own accord 
Tess had moved away from the window. 

“I won’t wait another minute!” she said 
at least a dozen times, yet she did wait, and 
at last Dorothy and Nancy came out on to 


no DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 

the porch and down the walk, then Katie 
Dean, then Mollie Merton and Flossie 
Barnet. Still no sign of Tess. 

‘^Well, if I ever!’’ exclaimed Patricia. 
‘‘I’d just like to know if she went out by a 
back door, or if she’s hanging behind so as 
to tease me? Well, she’ll not have the fun 
of finding me waiting!” She turned and 
hurried along the avenue, so swiftly that 
when the others had reached the cottage 
gate she was some distance from them. 

When Tess had listened to what Aunt 
Charlotte had to say, had promised to attend 
to her lessons, to tell Patricia that she must 
not signal to her, and to be prompt in the 
class-room instead of persistently late, she 
snatched her hat and coat and fairly ran 
from the cottage. 

Yes, Patricia was in sight, but a long way 
from the cottage. By the switch of her 


TESS 


111 


skirts Tess knew that she was very angry. 
Tess ran lightly along the avenue, and soon 
overtook Patricia. 

^‘Here I am at last,’^ she said, ‘‘and I 
thought I’d never get here.” 

“So did I,” said Patricia. 

“Well, you needn ’t speak like that ! ’ ’ cried 
Tess. “I couldn’t come any sooner. Aunt 
Charlotte made me change my seat, when 
she saw me making signs to you. She saw 
you out there, and she placed me so I 
couldn’t.” 

“Why didn’t you ask her to let you go 
early so you could 'do your errand?” Pa- 
tricia snapped. 

“I did,” said Tess, “but I told you she 
saw us motioning, so, of course, she wouldn’t 
let me. I ’d think you ’d know that. ’ ’ 

“You might have come out as soon as the 
others did,” complained Patricia. 


112 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


^‘1 might?” repeated Tess. ^^Well, I won- 
der how I could ? Aunt Charlotte kept me 
after the others were dismissed and talked 
and talked.” 

For a moment the two walked along in 
silence, then Tess spoke. 

See here, Patricia Lavine ! If you want 
me to go with you this afternoon, you can 
just be pleasant. If you’re going to be 
sulky, I’ll run along home.” 

Patricia was astonished. Arabella was 
always afraid of her. Here was a girl who 
had a will of her own, and she knew that if 
she cared for Tess’s friendship she must be 
agreeable. Like a flash she turned a smil- 
ing face as she said : 

‘^Come on. We’ll have a fine time. 
You’ll see!” 

Tess wondered if this pleasant mood 
would last, then slipping her hand through 


TESS 


113 


Patricia’s arm, she walked along beside her, 
Patricia describing the delightful afternoon 
that they were to enjoy together. 

At the far end of the town, at the corner 
of two dingy streets, stood a little one-story 
building. It was an odd-looking little shop 
that shoWed its wares in a most unusual way 
that was intended to give the impression of 
magnificence. A loaf of bread was sur- 
rounded by large paper roses, surprising 
blue roses, at that! A rather pale squash- 
pie sat on a throne draped with green and 
orange paper moss, while a festoon of 
doughnuts, principally holes and very little 
doughnut, were strung on a beautiful length 
of red twine. Cookies in “hearts and 
rounds” vied with brightly colored candies, 
and in the center of all this display stood a 
cardboard sign, on which very crooked let- 
ters announced that “sqwach pye” could be 


114 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


enjoyed at ^‘ten sents a helping’ and “do- 
nutts thre sents a peese,’’ were meant for a 
bargain. “Bred an bnter, ten sents,” was 
another offering that pleased Patricia, and 
she mounted the two sagging steps. 

“Did you ever see such spelling'?” said 
Tess, to which Patricia answered sharply: 

“Well, what of it? We won’t have to 
eat the spelling.” 

Tess laughed, and whispered, “That’s 
lucky,” but Patricia pretended not to hear. 


CHAPTER VII 


A MYSTERY 

P ATRICIA opened the door and 
entered, Tess following. Immedi- 
ately a big, frowsy woman ap- 
peared, turning sideways in order to get 
through the doorway. 

‘‘Lor’ me! If it ain’t you again. I ain’t 
had this place but two days, an’ you’ve been 
here both o’ them days. Guess you’ll be a 
good customer.” 

Patricia chose not to notice what the 
woman had said. 

“What will you have?” she asked, turn- 
ing toward Tess. 

“Oh, you choose,” Tess said. 


115 


116 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


‘‘Well, then, we’ll both have squash-pie, 
and two big pickles, a plate of doughnuts, 
and ten of those red and green candy balls.” 

If Arabella had been with Patricia she 
would not have dared to make any comment, 
but Tess looked at the pie and the pickles, 
the doughnuts and the awful color of the 
candy and gasped. 

“I do believe we’ll be sick if we eat all 
those things,” she said. 

“Well, I declare!” cried Patricia. “I 
don’t think you’re very nice to talk like that 
about what I ordered. You don’t have to 
eat it!” she finished, rudely. 

“I know that,” Tess replied coolly, and 
rose to go’. 

Patricia had found some one who was not 
afraid of her, and she spoke more gently. 
“Do stay, Tess,” she said, “and eat what 
you choose.” 


A MYSTERY 


117 


Tess ate her share of the pie, but could 
not be coaxed to taste any other part of the 
oddly chosen lunch. Patricia did not seem 
vexed. Indeed, she declared that she could 
not have anything wasted, and she devoured 
the two huge pickles, and the doughnuts. 
Gathering up the queer-looking candy balls, 
she began to drop them into her coat pocket, 
watching Tess all the while. 

“You truly don’t want any of them?” she 
asked. 

“Oh, thank you, no,” said Tess, “you have 
them,” and Patricia seemed pleased. “I 
wasn’t going to eat mine, anyway,” she said 
cheerfully. “I was going to give mine to 
the dogs, so now I’ll give them your share of 
them, too. It’s fun to toss candy balls and 
see which dog will get them.” 

Tess said nothing, but she wondered if 
Patricia thought it polite to treat a friend 


118 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


to candy that she herself felt only good 
enough to toss to the dogs. As they left the 
place Tess spoke of the errand that she must 
surely do before going home. 

‘ ‘ What did you say ^ You don ’t mean that 
you are going home now, do you?” said 
Patricia, stopping to look at Tess. 

“Why, yes, as soon as IVe done the er- 
rand,” Tess replied. 

“Well, I certainly thought you’d be with 
me all the afternoon. I thought we’d go 
over to the pond. The hoys are going over 
there when they get back from school. 
They think there’ll be good skating there 
soon, and they’re going to build a sort of 
hut right on the edge of the pond for a little 
shelter from the wind when any of us are 
very cold. I wanted to see them begin it.” 

“But I left the cottage at a little after one, 
and the boys have two sessions at their 


A MYSTERY 


119 


school, and when they get out at four it’s a 
half-hour later when they leave the car at 
the station. I guess it would be pretty cold, 
and surely lonesome waiting three hours 
and more to see the boys begin their hut. 
Why, Patricia, I wouldn’t go over to the 
pond with only you with me.” 

‘‘Pooh! Who’s a ’fraidie cat?” said 
Patricia. 

So Tess turned down a side street to do 
the little errand, and Patricia began to walk 
in the direction of the pond, but she walked 
rather slowly. She did not like school, but 
being out of school was beginning to seem 
rather dull, and often she found it hard to 
amuse herself. 

When she had left the road and crossed 
the fields to where a glimpse of the little 
pond could be seen, she thought of what 
Tess had said. It certainly was a lonely 


120 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


spot. Not one of the boys had come. In- 
deed, it would be nearly two hours before 
they would arrive. How cold it was ! 

A dry twig cracked over her head, the 
wind whistled through the bare branches, 
and over in the grove she thought she saw 
some one moving. It might be one of the 
boys, — it wasn’t. It came slowly through 
between the trees, and Patricia turned, 
stumbled and fell, picked herself up and 
stumbled again. She looked over her 
shoulder. The figure had come out from 
the grove, and stood looking toward her. 
It was an old woman, and in her nervous 
fear Patricia thought that the keen, black 
eyes were looking directly at her. 

All Merrivale was stirred by the story that 
went from one to another that Patricia 
Lavine was lost. She had promised to come 


A MYSTERY 


121 


directly home from her walk, but she had 
not done so. 

A dozen times that afternoon her aunt had 
gone down to the little gate to learn if she 
were coming. She was not really fright- 
ened, because Patricia often failed to come 
home at the time that she had been told to 
come, but twilight had always found her 
entering at the gate. On that night twilight 
came, and no Patricia. What could have 
happened to the wilful girl ? 

Evening came, dark and cloudy, and the 
woman at the gate called long and loudly, 
‘‘Patricia! Patricia!^’ in the hope that an 
answering voice would cry: “I’m coming,” 
before the small figure could be seen. Again, 
and again, the woman called. Suddenly a 
window was thrown up and the voice of 
’Mandy shouted a disturbing question on the 
still evening air. 


122 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


‘ ‘ Good land, Ma ’am ! Ain ’t Patricia been 
home since she’d went over ter the pond?” 

‘‘The pond! Don’t tell me she went clean 
over ter the pond!” came the shrieking re- 
sponse. 

“Wall, I ain’t sayin’ she went, but I 
heered her say she was goin’ there,” replied 
’Mandy, “an’ ef ye ain’t — ” 

“The did went,” cried Chub, who had 
thrust his tousled head out of the window 
that he might share the excitement. 

“Patritha did went ter the pond, fer I 
heard her thay the wath goin’, an’ I theen 
her thtart!’’ 

Then ’Mandy had closed the window. 
The woman left the gate, and went in to sit 
and listen for a footstep. All night she sat 
by the window, sometimes nodding from 
sheer weariness, but always waking with a 
start to peer out into the darkness, then 


A MYSTERY 


123 


leaning back in her chair with her nervous 
hands tightly clenched. She had never felt 
much love for wilful little Patricia, but she 
was her aunt, and was responsible for her, 
and well she knew that if any harm came to 
her she would be soundly blamed for it even 
if it were proven that the fault in the matter 
lay wholly with Patricia. 

When daylight came, she knew that she 
must spend no more time in watching or 
waiting. A burly policeman was passing, 
and she ran down to the gate. 

‘^Where’s my niece?’’ she demanded. 
She seemed unaware that the man was a 
stranger. 

Where’s my niece?” she repeated. 

‘^Where’s the town pump?” said the 
policeman. 

^‘I’ve a mind to report you for being im- 
pudent,” she snapped. 


124 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 

Whisht, now!” was the answer, intended 
to calm her. “Give jist got me job here, 
an’ bein’ a sthranger in town, yer question 
sounded a bit quare, so not knowin’ how ter 
answer it, I made bowld to ax another. 
Now, ma’am, no offince, but how happened 
ye ter ax me?” 

As soon as she explained to him that 
Patricia had been away all the day before, 
and all night, he was all interest and sym- 
pathy, and in a short time a number of men 
from the station were on their way to the 
pond and the woodland on its shore. 

They found no trace of her. Then the 
bells were rung to arouse the townspeople, 
and a crowd of men gathered, who, when 
they heard of the missing girl, started with 
a will to search for her. 

The news spread like wildfire, and every 
one was asking his neighbor when he 


A MYSTERY 


125 


had last seen the little girl, and where. 
There had been no such excitement in a 
long time. 

And while men searched the woods, 
dragged the pond, and went up one street 
and down another, where was Patricia ? 

All day the search was kept up, and when 
night came they were no wiser than when 
they had started out at daybreak. 

In a dingy back room whose windows 
looked out upon a narrow back street, a big 
woman stood earnestly talking to a little 
girl. ‘‘Ye see, sissy, ye ain’t told me what 
yer name is, nor where ye live, nor how ye 
happen to come streakin’ ter my door jest 
’fore dark on Wednesday. Now, ye are a 
powerful eater, an’ so fur ye’ve paid fer all 
ye’ve eat, but I don’t b’lieve a little girl like 
you has got much left by now, an’ if ye can’t 


126 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 

pay, ye’ll Pave ter go, fer I couldn’t no ways 
afford ter feed ye.” 

can pay; you needn’t worry,” said 
Patricia. 

^‘But, sissy, what brung ye here? Ye 
come tearin’ up the steps, an’ pounded on 
the door, an’ when I opened it ye stumbled 
in, an’ ye ain’t told me yet what brung ye.” 

‘‘O dear! Well, if you must know. I’ll 
tell you. I’d been over to the pond, and the 
boys who were surely going over there to 
build a hut, didn’t come. It looked pretty 
lonesome, and just as I was thinking that 
I wished I hadn’t come, I saw something 
moving among the tree-trunks over in the 
grove. I wasn’t sure at first, but after a 
moment it began to come forward, and then 
I saw that the thing I ’d seen moving among 
the trees was an old woman, a tall old woman 
as black as a gypsy. 


A MYSTERY 


127 


had an awful face, and I thought 
she looked straight at me, but I didn’t stop 
to find out. I just turned to run, and of 
course I stumbled and fell. I got up as 
quick as I could and began to run again.” 

Patricia paused to catch her breath, and 
just then the bells began to ring. 

Mercy! What’s all that ringing fer? 
Must be a fire. I hope ’tain’t near here,” 
said the woman. “Well, go on with what 
ye was sayin’, sissy.” 

“There’s not much more to tell,” Patricia 
said. “I stumbled again, that time over a 
dry branch that lay across the path. I 
hadn’t noticed it, and I felt every second as 
if the old woman would put one of her long, 
bony hands on me. I didn’t dare to even 
look over my shoulder. I got up and ran 
again, and because this was the nearest 
house I came right here.” 


128 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


^‘Well, I’m glad ye come, but why didn’t 
you go borne instead?” questioned the 
woman. 

^ ‘ I ’m just staying with my aunt, ’ ’ Patricia 
replied, ^‘and I knew she’d be provoked 
because I’d not been home all day, so I 
thought I’d stay long ’nough so she’d be 
scared, and then when I came home she’d 
be too glad to see me to scold.” 

“Well, of all the contrivin’ I Say, 
where’s yer ma?” cried the woman, who 
was wild with curiosity. 

“How much do I owe you?” Patricia said, 
pretending not to have heard the question. 

“Pretty nigh a dollar.” 

Patricia was too anxious to get away to be 
in any mood to drive a bargain. Without 
stopping to reckon, she thrust a dollar into 
the big, red hand, snatched her hat and coat, 
and, with one arm in its sleeve, bolted toward 


A MYSTERY 


129 


the door, intending to get out before more 
questions were asked. 

^‘Here! Wait, can’t ye, ’til I unlock the 
door? What’s yer great hurry all to oncet? 
Say, ain’t ye got no pa-rents? Huh? Be 
ye a heiress?” 

Up the street Patricia ran like the wind, 
without so much as saying Good-bye.” 

Ain’t that the queerest youngster?” ex- 
claimed the woman, but there was no one 
near to answer. 

Usually Patricia was very glad to answer 
the question, so often asked, because it gave 
her a chance to boast of her home in 
York,” but she was tired of staying in the 
little room at the rear of the store, and hav- 
ing decided to go, she had no intention of 
answering any more questions. 

When she had left the little store far 
behind, she stopped running and began to 


130 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


stroll along. She had decided that the best 
thing to do was to walk in at the gate as 
quietly as if she had just returned from a 
little walk, but her plan was upset, and her 
return was quite different from what she 
had wished it to be. 

First of all, the two small dogs came run- 
ning to meet her, barking and yelping with 
delight. She spoke to them, but tried to 
walk aroimd them so as to enter the house. 
She assumed what she thought to be a very 
cold and lofty manner, and was about to 
mount the steps when a cry from the hen 
coop made her turn and look that way. 

‘‘Oh, ow! Why, Patricia Lavine! You 
wasn^t drownded after all!” 

^^Drowned!^^ said Patricia. “What made 
you say that?” 

“Because every one else is sayin’ it,” said 
her aunt, “an’ look at them eggs! I’d jest 


A MYSTERY 


131 


got ’em from the coop, when I looked up an’ 
seen ye cornin’ in at the gate, an’ it scaret 
me so I let them drop right out’n my hands, 
an’ they’re all smashed. Well, fer the land 
sake, tell me where ye’ve been, an’ what ever 
possessed ye to have went?^’ 

Before Patricia could answer a shriek 
made them both turn toward the street. 

‘ ‘ Thay ! Thay now ! Y e ain ’t dro wnded, 
though who thcooped ye out’n the pond?” 
Chub’s fat face was pressed against the 
pickets of the fence, his round eyes staring 
at Patricia. 

‘‘ ’Mandy!” he shouted. ‘‘Come, look at 
the girl whath been in the pond two dayth, 
an’ ain’t got no water on her!” 

“Come in the house,” said Patricia, “and 
I’ll tell you all about it, in there. Auntie.” 

Patricia spoke gently. She was very 
happy. The whole town had thought her 


132 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


lost! She had made quite a stir in Merri- 
vale ! She had not thought of that. In her 
silly little heart she thought the stupid visit 
at the store, even the woman’s tiresome 
questioning, was more than made up for. 
She longed to go out upon the street and 
have people ask her where she had been. 
She decided that she would not tell them. 
‘‘Let them wonder,” she said to herself. 

In her foolish vanity, she could almost 
see herself walking proudly up the avenue, 
the two dogs on leashes, while in a scornful 
manner she replied to all who questioned 
her: “Oh, IVe merely had a little vacation. 
J ust a two-days ’ visit. Where have I been ? 
Why, really, how impertinent.” 

Great was her disgust when she learned 
that the woman at the little shop had told 
the policemen, the firemen, the boys who 
passed her door, indeed every one who would 


A MYSTERY 


133 


listen, that Patricia had merely been lodging 
in the “little back kitchen what’s jined ter 
my shop.” 


CHAPTER VIII 


PLANNING A FAIK 

P ATRICIA was surprised. She had 
walked through the town, had seen 
a policeman who frowned at her, a 
fireman who never noticed her, and finally 
Reginald Dean. 

‘‘Oh, my! You tried to get lost,” he cried, 
“but got no farther than the little old store 
on Margin Street!” 

“You horrid boy!” cried Patricia. 

“Well, I’m not a horrid girl/^ declared 
Reginald. 

It seemed impossible for the two to meet 
pleasantly. Reginald had no patience with 
Patricia’s silly ways, and Patricia consid- 


134 


PLANNING A FAIR 


135 


ered any one stupid who did not admire her. 
Just as she was trying to think of something 
very severe to say to Eeginald, Arabella 
came running down the avenue, and in her 
surprise Patricia forgot all about Reginald. 
Forgot, even, that she had been vexed. It 
surely was a strange sight, for Arabella had 
the name of being ‘^poky.’’ She never ran, 
and so took no part in lively games. It was 
evident that something unusual had hap- 
pened. 

‘‘Guess what I have to tell you?’’ she said, 
when she reached Patricia. “Guess? No, 
you needn’t. I’ll tell you. Aunt Matilda’s 
going to visit her cousin, and she starts 
to-day, and will be gone a whole month !” 

“Why, Arabella Correyville! I thought 
you were away at school,” said Patricia. 
“You certainly told me you were going back 
to Glenmore.” 


136 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


‘‘Well, what if I did?’’ Arabella cried. 
“I couldn’t go back when the school opened, 
because I wasn’t feeling well.” 

“And now you’re well, you don’t want 
to?” questioned Patricia, with a sly laugh. 

“I don’t want to, and I don’t have to. 
Aunt Matilda said I ought to start in again 
at Glenmore on the beginning of the new 
term, and that would be next week, and my 
father said perhaps it would be well for me 
to do that, but Aunt Matilda is going away, 
and I mean to coax him to let me stay at 
home.” 

Eeginald moved a step nearer. “You’d 
better not give up school,” he said, “for if 
you do you’ll be a regular ninny. That’s 
true as the world, Arabella.” 

“A girl that doesn’t go to school is a 
ninny?” Arabella asked; then after a pause 
she said, “Patricia doesn’t go to school.” 


PLANNING A FAIR 


137 


‘‘Well, what does that prove he shouted, 
as he ran away, laughing. 

Arabella was too slow to see the point, but 
Patricia saw it, and picked up a stone to 
throw at him, then changed her mind and 
dropped it. It would not be nice to make 
him more of an enemy than he already was. 

It was Saturday, and the boys had planned 
a fine “tramp” for the afternoon. Snow 
that had covered the ground for weeks had 
disappeared, and the boys were eager to 
explore the ruins of an old house that had 
been destroyed by fire. A strange, dilapi- 
dated old place it had been, and it was 
rumored that the rough-looking men who 
had lived there had set fire to it before leav- 
ing town. 

They had taken possession of the place, 
remaining there but a few months, and then 
leaving as suddenly as they had come. One 


138 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


of the boys proposed searching the ruins to 
see if, by chance, anything of value remained 
after the fire. 

‘‘They didn’t look as if they ever owned 
anything very valuable,” said Jack Tiver- 
ton, but while the other boys laughed, they 
all agreed that it would do no harm to search 
the smoking pile. 

They had a fine tramp, but after careful 
search found nothing more valuable than an 
old brass button, a rusty tin plate, and an 
iron fork. 

“Lucky we wasted no time in coming over 
here. If we’d been slow, some other fellows 
would have found these things,” said Jack 
Tiverton. 

“Who started this thing, anyway?” said 
Eeginald. “I know I didn’t.” 

“Sid Herrington, speak up!” cried Jack. 
“The bright idea was yours, wasn’t it?” 


PLANNING A FAIR 


139 


‘^Oh, well, what if it was?’’ said Sidney, 
‘^you fellows didn’t think it so silly but that 
you came along over to join me in the 
search.” 

‘‘That’s so,” agreed Jack, “and say, fel- 
lows, what do you say to giving the beau- 
tiful old tin plate to Sid as a medal for 
having first thought of possible treasure 
here?” 

But Sidney refused to be decorated with 
the huge “medal,” and soon they were 
tramping homeward over the road by which 
they had come. 

“I heard a funny thing this morning,” 
Reginald said, as they turned toward the 
far end of the main avenue. “Leander Cor- 
re3wille said that when his Aunt Matilda 
started off on the trip she had long been 
planning, she left strict orders that Arabella 
must feed the geese. Leander says he re- 


140 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 

minded her that Arabella was afraid of the 
geese, and he said that he would be willing 
to care for them while she was away, but 
that would not do. Old Aunt Matilda de- 
clared that no one but Arabella should do 
it, and she wouldn’t go a step until Arabella 
had promised. Arabella was quick enough 
to promise. She knows that she can do as 
she likes while Aunt Matilda is away, and 
she wanted to see her start. 

‘^When she had gone, Arabella turned, 
and to Leander she said: ‘Now I’ve prom- 
ised I’ll have to do it, but I’m scared to go 
near those geese!’ 

“Leander told her they wouldn’t harm 
her, but she just said it was no use for him 
to talk, and that she was afraid of them just 
the same.” 

“Say, boys! Let’s stop on the way home 
and ask Arabella to show us the geese,” said 


PLANNING A FAIR 


141 


Jack Tiverton. ‘‘I’ll bet she won’t go near 
the coop. She’ll tell us to go and look at 
them if we want to. It’s no great sight, and 
I don’t care about looking at them, but I do 
want to see what Arabella will do. I’ll say, 
‘Come on over to the coop with us, Ara- 
bella.’ ” 

They were to have a funnier sight than 
they dreamed. As they approached the Cor- 
reyville place, shrill cries attracted their 
attention. On a bit of rising land, not far 
from the road, stood Arabella, and one might 
have thought it a summer day instead of a 
mild day in February, for on her head she 
wore a big, flapping sunbonnet. 

Arabella was in trouble. 

“Go ^way! Go \myP^ she shrieked, look- 
ing anxiously at the two big birds. The 
gander hissed at her, as if he knew that she 
feared him, and thought it a joke to increase 


142 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


her terror. The sunbonnet hid her face, but 
it could not stifle her cries. 

The birds approached nearer, at which 
Arabella, in absolute panic, began to jump 
up and down in a frantic dance ! The gan- 
der, thinking that she was threatening him 
with her wildly waving arms, stretched his 
neck and waddled nearer, hissing louder 
than before. 

‘‘Go ’way! Go ^way!” howled Arabella, 
her thin legs doing the wildest of jigs. 

“His-s-s-s!” responded the gander, while 
the goose, as if agreeing with her mate, 
echoed his hissing, at which Arabella 
screamed louder than before. 

“Come on in,” said Jack, “it’s mean not 
to help her, even if she is silly. 

“Say, Arabella! Don’t get crazy!” he 
shouted. “We’ll get there before the big 
birds eat you!” 


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PLANNING A FAIR 


143 


Help arrived, however, just as they were 
entering the gateway, for at that moment 
Leander came from the back porch with a 
tin basin in his hands. The geese saw him 
and left Arabella to follow him, waddling 
off in a clumsy race toward an expected 
treat. 

don’t care if you do laugh,” Arabella 
said defiantly, ‘^for those geese do look hor- 
rid when they come at you with their mouths 
wide open, and just hissing like everything, 
and I guess you’d — ” 

Who’s laughing?” said Jack Tiverton. 

Weren’t we fellows just coming to help 
you?” 

<^Were you?” Arabella asked, slowly. 

‘‘Weren’t we, boys?” he said, turning to 
the broadly smiling group. 

“Sure thing,” said Eeginald. “We were 
brave lads, who, seeing a lady in distress. 


144 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


rushed in to rescue her from the wild beasts, 
— no birds.” 

Arabella stared at him. “They’re not 
birds,” she drawled. “They’re geese.” 

“Well, if geese aren’t birds! Oh, come 
on, boys, let’s beat it,” said Reginald, and 
the brave would-be defenders turned and 
ran down the avenue. 

When spring arrived the town of Merri- 
vale was all excitement. Merrivale was to 
have a fair, and every one was to enjoy it. 

The Merrivale Club had always held its 
meetings in the parish house, but now its 
members had decided that it must have a 
building of its own, and while large sums 
had been given by generous residents, there 
still remained quite a sum that must be 
raised before beginning to build. 

The use of the hall had been given, and a 


PLANNING A FAIR 


145 


vast stock of fine articles had been contrib- 
uted for the sale, but the entertainment was 
what most interested the children. 

Besides a little play, yet to be chosen, there 
were to be solo numbers, and it was safe to 
guess that any group of boys and girls that 
one might see busily chatting after school 
were talking about the fair. 

^‘What are you going to do?” 

^‘What is your part in the entertain- 
ment?” 

^^Who knows who’s going to be in the 
play?” 

When the news leaked out that the play 
was to be Aladdin,” and that forty boys 
and girls would be needed for its proper ren- 
dering, excitement increased. 

Who was to be Aladdin? Who his lovely 
princess, and who the jinni? Then came 
the day when all the parts were assigned. 


146 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


“Every one knows jnst who every one is 
to be,” said Flossie, one morning, “and 
aren’t you just wild^ Uncle Harry, to see the 
fairy play?” 

“ Wild ? Am I wild ? ’ ’ said U ncle Harry. 
“Why, Flossie, dear, I’m almost Hearing my 
hair’ because it is so hard to wait for the 
evening when ‘Aladdin’ is to be presented.” 

“Now, Uncle Harry, you needn’t make 
fun of us little actors,” said Flossie, “for 
you’ll surely be wild when you see us, only 
you won’t have to Hear your hair.’ You 
can just look, and applaud.” 

“I have to have my little joke,” he said, 
“but, Flossie, dear, I’ve not the least doubt 
that you will play your parts very nicely, 
and, now tell me, ‘who is to be who’ in the 
play.” 

“Jack Tiverton is to be Aladdin, and Ara- 
bella has agreed to be his mother. Dorothy 


PLANNING A FAIR 


147 


Dainty is to be the lovely princess, and 
Nancy is to be the jinni, and I’m to be an 
elfin page. Tess Hanghton will be the girl 
friend of the princess, and ever so many 
boys and girls will be villagers, and Mollie 
is to be a handsome slave, and, oh, there’s 
many parts besides these, but I ’ve forgotten 
their names.” 

‘‘What part am I to take*?” Uncle Harry 
asked. “I’ve been notified that I am to be 
in the caste.” 

‘ ‘ Truly ? Are you j oking ? ’ ’ Flossie asked. 

“I’m sober as a judge when I say that I 
am to be in the play,” said Uncle Harry, 
“but I’m worried as to what my role will be. 
I hope the lady manager isn’t planning to 
have me act the part of a clown, or a dancing 
bear.” 

“Oh, Uncle Harry! She wouldn’t ask 
you to be any horrid thing. I’ll ask her 


148 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


what you’re to be,” Flossie said, as if to 
comfort him, for she more than half believed 
that he was really anxious, whereas Uncle 
Harry, tall and handsome, and utterly good- 
tempered, would have taken any part, if by 
so doing he might help. 

A half-hour later, on his way to the post- 
office, Uncle Harry met the genial manager, 
and the two laughed merrily as they talked 
of the costmne that he must wear, and the 
^ ^make-up.” 

The next morning Flossie heard a voice 
outside her chamber door, chanting : 

‘ ^ New lamps for old ! N ew lamps for old ! 
New lamps for old!” 

^^Oh, Uncle Harry!” she cried, opening 
the door, ‘‘Are you going to be the horrid 
man that got Aladdin’s lamp away?” 

‘‘Don’t you hear me practicing?” he 
asked. 


PLANNING A FAIR 


149 


‘‘Oh, but the play will be twice as much 
fun if you are in it,” said Flossie. 

“Well, I wish the audience might think 
as you do,” said Uncle Harry. 

There were countless rehearsals, and the 
boys and girls tried to do their best, but a 
deal of “coaching” was necessary. How- 
ever, when the day came for the dress re- 
hearsal, every one was letter perfect, and 
the manager told them that if they would 
all do as well on the evening when the play 
was to be given the entertainment would be 
a success. 

How eagerly they awaited that evening! 
The dress rehearsal was on Tuesday, after 
school, and the play would be given on 
Wednesday evening. Only one day to wait, 
but what a long day it seemed ! 

At recess, Dorothy and Nancy, Mollie and 
Flossie, stood talking of the evening that all 


150 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 

were anticipating, when Tess Hanghton 
joined them. She had always wished that 
she might be constantly with Dorothy, and 
envied Nancy her close companionship. 

‘‘Have either of yon heard about Pa- 
tricia?’’ she asked. “You know, Mrs. Mel- 
ville is the manager, and Patricia went right 
to her and asked if she might be the princess 
in the play. Wasn’t she bold? Well, when 
she was told that all the parts had been given 
out she was furious, and when Mrs. Melville 
told her that she could be an extra villager, 
she was so angry she could hardly speak. 

“ ‘I’ll not be in the play at all if I can’t 
have a fine part!’ she said. 

“Mrs. Melville hasn’t lived in Merrivale 
very long, and she didn’t know Patricia, so 
when Patricia said her folks had intended 
buying ever so many tickets because they 
thought that she was to be in the play, that 


PLANNING A FAIR 


151 


they had intended to be present with a num- 
ber of friends, Mrs. Melville thought per- 
haps she was losing the sale of loads of 
tickets, so she told Patricia she could sing 
a solo in the concert part of the program. 
I asked Patricia what she was going to sing, 
but she wouldn’t tell me,” Tess concluded. 

‘‘I guess if Mrs. Melville had known how 
Patricia is likely to act, she wouldn’t have 
told her to do a solo,” said Mollie. 

‘‘It may be that she’ll sing something that 
we’ll enjoy,” Flossie said, gently. Dear 
little Flossie always tried to say a pleasant 
word for every one. 

“Now, Flossie Barnet!” cried Mollie, 
“you know how funny she acts, and, — well, 
you’ll all think I’m horrid, but truly I do 
believe Patricia will do something so foolish 
every one will be laughing, and I say it’s too 
bad to have our fine entertainment spoiled. 


152 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


I wanted every one to think it fine. I am 
sure that we have all done our best, and it 
isn’t very nice to think of the hall full of 
people just laughing at us.” 

‘^Oh, Mollie dear, they won’t laugh at the 
lovely play, or at the pretty dance that 
Nancy is to do. I think they’ll like the song 
that Mother has taught me to sing, and 
surely the duet that Flossie and Uncle Harry 
will sing is sure to please.” 

know Dorothy is right,” Nancy said. 

‘^She surely is,” agreed Tess, ‘‘so I’ll say, 
if Patricia must be absurd, we simply can’t 
prevent it.” 


CHAPTER IX 

ALADDIN’S LAMP 

W EDNESDAY evening was star- 
lit, and it certainly seemed as 
if every one in Merrivale was 
hastening toward the hall. Already pur- 
chasers were crowding around the brightly 
lighted booths, and the pretty girls showed 
their wares, and found no difficulty in dis- 
posing of them. 

The flower booth, shaped like a little 
temple, was a mass of gorgeous color, and 
crisp bills were being exchanged for lovely 
pinks and roses. Even potted plants were 
sold, the purchasers leaving them to beau- 
tify the booth until after the entertainment, 


153 


154 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


when they would call for them to take them 
home. 

A little old lady stood eagerly looking at 
a handsome azalea. ‘‘I’d take that plant, 
miss, if I felt sure that I could carry it home. 
Is it very heavy?” The gentle old face was 
eager as she asked the question. 

“It is quite heavy,” the young girl re- 
plied. “It is a fine plant, and its pot is 
large.” 

Jack Tiverton had heard the conversation, 
and he moved nearer. “ I ’d take it home for 
you; I’d be glad to,” he said. 

“Oh, that would be most kind of you, but 
I’d not like to bother you.” 

Her eyes were bright as she spoke. The 
boy’s kindly offer had pleased her. 

“I’m going to stay to enjoy the play,” 
she confided. “Are you?” 

“Oh, yes,” Jack said with a smile. He 


ALADDIN’S LAMP 


155 


was wondering if she would recognize him 
when he appeared as Aladdin. 

‘‘Then the lovely plant is mine,” said the 
little old lady. 

“And I’ll call for it after the play and 
take it home for you. I know where you 
live. It’s the cottage where there’s a fine 
garden. I’ve seen you out among the fiow- 
ers. I’ll surely call for the plant.” 

He was off before she could thank him. 
Some one had beckoned to him and he knew 
that he must hasten behind the scenes to 
dress for his part. 

The older people were greatly interested 
to see the pla^. They had heard much re- 
garding the care that had been expended 
upon its production, but few knew how gen- 
erously Uncle Harry had helped to make 
it a success. 

The scenery at the hall was not correct 


156 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


for the play. An English forest scene, a 
drawing-room, a third representing a bit of 
Broadway, New York, and a dining-room 
set was all that the manager could offer, and 
these were absurd for an Oriental play, so 
Uncle Harry sent to the city, and succeeded 
in hiring the proper setting for the lovely 
old fairy tale. 

The children were more than eager. They 
were simply wild for the play to begin, and 
showed it plainly. 

The orchestra was playing a lively medley, 
and fans were keeping time to its lilting 
music, when it began slowly to diminish, 
then, a note from the triangle, and then as 
the curtain rose the soft tones as of pagoda 
bells made the children hold their breath. 

Ah, there was the first scene for which 
they had been waiting. The poor old 
woman, Aladdin’s mother, was telling the 


ALADDIN^S LAMP 


157 


boy how hungry she was, and that there was 
no food in the house. 

Who would have dreamed that Arabella 
could play a part so well ? Her disguise was 
complete, and she made her voice like that 
of a very old woman. Then how exciting 
was the moment when Aladdin, having 
rushed from the house, determined to find 
food, returned with the old lamp, and tak- 
ing care that his mother did not see what he 
was doing, rubbed the lamp, and up through 
a trap in the stage fioor sprang the jinni. 

Nancy had never looked more lovely than 
in the rose-colored gauze, glittering with 
many spangles. 

^‘What do you wish, my lad?” she said, 
in her soft, low voice. 

“We are so hungry,” said Aladdin. 

Every one knows how the table appeared 
heaped with fruits and cakes, and how. 


158 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


whenever they wished for anything, Alad- 
din had only to rub the old lamp. 

Then came the scene when the peddler 
came down the street, crying: ‘^New lamps 
for old! New lamps for old!’’ Who would 
have dreamed that the wily peddler was 
handsome Uncle Harry? And how excited 
were the children when Aladdin’s mother, 
knowing nothing of the magic power of the 
old lamp, gladly exchanged it for a new brass 
lamp, because it looked so much finer ! 

Then the wicked peddler and the elfin page 
sang a duet, ‘‘The Butterfiy and the Rose,” 
Flossie Barnet in her green gauze frock, and 
sparkling wings, was just sweet little Flos- 
sie, as every one knew her, but who would 
ever have dreamed that the horrid old ped- 
dler, who looked like an ogre, was her brave, 
kind-hearted, genial Uncle Harry, whom all 
the children loved? His disguise was per- 


ALADDIN’S LAMP 


159 


feet, but the wonderful baritone voice was 
his. That was not disguised. 

The next scene was watched with the 
keenest interest by the adults and children 
alike. Would Aladdin be forced to live 
always in the poverty that he and his mother 
had found so hard to bear, or would the 
precious old lamp ever return to gladden his 
home ? The play was so cleverly acted that 
it seemed very real, and the children held 
their breath. And what a sigh of relief the 
children gave when the old lamp was once 
more in Aladdin’s home, the jinni, as before, 
appearing whenever he rubbed its brazen 
bowl. 

Nancy did a dainty dance for him and 
begged him to guard the precious lamp. 

Next came the wonderful moment when 
Aladdin first saw the lovely princess, and 
who could wonder that he instantly lost his 


160 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


heart, for Dorothy was a charming princess, 
and her bine and silver costume made her 
even fairer than usual. She lifted her hand 
and bade him approach, and it made a fine 
tableau when he bowed and knelt before her, 
with Flossie as an elfin page hovering near. 

Tess Haughton^s role was not very impor- 
tant, but she looked very pretty as the girl 
friend of the princess. 

Mollie Merton, as a lovely slave, played 
her part well, and her song was well sung. 
There were many bangles on her wrists and 
ankles that jingled as she walked, and when 
she sang, Slave Girl Am I,” she was 
applauded to the echo. 

Sidney Herrington was a comical servant 
in the employ of Aladdin, who now, through 
the wonderful lamp, had become wealthy. 

Jack Tiverton was a winning Aladdin, 
and the audience seemed to like the play. 


ALADDIN^S LAMP 


161 


Then the drop scene was lowered, that the 
scene might be shifted. At the end of the 
hall a tall, lanky girl stood, a small boy 
clinging to her hand. 

‘‘Where’th Patrithia^ WhaPth the 
goin’ ter do"?’’ he whispered loudly. 

^ ^ Hush ! She ’s goin ’ ter sing. Leastways, 
that’s what she said, but ye can’t never tell 
nothin’ by what Patricia says.” 

‘^The tellth awful whopperth,” declared 
the small boy. 

‘^Oh, there the ith now. Merthy! What 
a rig!” 

‘‘Hush, I tell ye!” said ’Mandy. 

Patricia was indeed amazingly clad. She 
had promised to sing at the entertainment, 
but just what she was to sing she had refused 
to tell, and Mrs. Melville, thinking that any 
little song would do to amuse the audience 
while the scenes were being shifted, had 


162 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


simply placed the number on the program 
as: 

“Song. Selected . . Patbicia Lavine. ’ ^ 

With her sheet of music in her hands, she 
stood waiting for the pianist to play the 
prelude. 

Her frock of bright blue satin was draped 
with a green sash. Her stockings were red, 
and her shoes were white, with green bows 
on the toes. Her aunt had tried to persuade 
her to wear less colors, but Patricia had de- 
clared that she should wear as many colors 
as she chose, so one could only be glad that 
she had not selected a greater variety. She 
had told her playmates that she had had 
special training for her solo. 

‘^My teacher says my pro-t^^^^-tion is 
fine,” she declared, and Flossie, looking puz- 
zled, asked: “What is that?” 

“Well, when you can hear every word I 


ALADDIN^S LAMP 


163 


sing, you’ll know what I mean. That’s pro- 
mm-tion,” said Patricia, and little Flossie 
decided to listen attentively. 

Who could describe her shrill rendering 
of the old ballad, Annie Laurie’”? A soft 
ripple of laughter swept over the audience, 
but Patricia was so delighted with her per- 
formance that she did not notice that. She 
waved her sheet of music up and down as 
if beating time for the melody, and she 
swayed as if fairly overpowered by her vocal 
efforts. She tried to do a trill here and 
there, as she had heard a concert singer do, 
the while she sang : 

“Max Swelton^s bunks are boney, 

Where ear-r-r-ly falls the doo, 

And ’twas ther-r-re that Annie Laura, 
Gave me her ^-r-r-omus troo.^^ 

She had succeeded in amusing the good 
people of Merrivale, for many were smiling 


164 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 

broadly ; one big man was absolutely purple 
in bis effort to restrain bis laughter, while 
the greater number laughed outright. 

Patricia said afterwards that the people 
of Merrivale were stupid, and actually 
seemed not to understand the song, for they 
had positively laughed as if they had thought 
it a comic song. Yorkers understand 

fine music,” she said, ^^and after this I shall 
sing only in N’ York.” 

Patricia, having bowed to the right and 
the left again and again, as she had seen 
older vocalists do, retired behind the scenes, 
and then the curtain went up, showing a 
gorgeous ball room in the palace, Aladdin 
dancing with his princess, and the nobles as 
gayly dancing with their lovely ladies. 

The play was well given, and the audience 
fully enjoyed it. The chorus of boys and 
girls sang their numbers with a will, and, 


ALADDIN^S LAMP 


165 


best of all, the children learned from the 
manager that they had added quite a snm 
toward the amount that the fair itself had 
netted. 

The grown-ups’’ had so enjoyed the play 
that they asked that it be repeated, and that 
was indeed great praise for their efforts. 
It was repeated on the following evening, 
gaining as much for admission tickets as on 
the first night. 

Patricia announced that she would not 
sing for an audience that did not understand 
good music, but she said that she would 

speak a piece.” The lady manager had 
been amazed at Patricia’s singing of the 
familiar ballad, and she could not imagine 
what she would choose to speak, or how she 
would render a selection. 

Well, Patricia’s ‘^friends” must not be 
offended. Patricia had insisted that she 


166 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


had a trained voice, and the good lady, not 
wishing to offend, had given her a place on 
the program. 

She wondered if her speaking would be as 
absurd as her singing had been, and was 
trying to decide if she should permit her to 
again appear, when the big man who had 
laughed so heartily approached. 

‘^By all means give her a place on the pro- 
gram,” he urged, adding, “Every one wishes 
to hear her again. She’s certainly amus- 
ing.” 

So Patricia was again to appear. 

If her singing of “Annie Laurie” had 
been absurd, what words could describe the 
reading of the famous old poem, “The Bare- 
foot Boy.” 

The manager suggested that she ask some 
one to give her a little “coaching.” “Mrs. 
Grayson is a fine reader, and the manner in 


ALADDIN^S LAMP 


167 


which some of her pupils read their lines 
in the play prove that she is also a good in- 
structor. I am sure that she would be 
willing to help you if you asked her/’ she 
said, but Patricia declared that she needed 
no ‘‘coaching.” 

That was Patricia’s greatest fault. She 
was too sure that her own ideas were correct. 
Too stubborn to be taught. She was a 
pretty child, and bright enough to have 
learned quickly, if only she had been willing 
to learn. 

She remembered that often at school the 
children were reproved for reading in a dull, 
uninteresting manner, and she decided to 
give her reading in a vigorous manner. 

She read, and re-read the piece, shouting 
it as if she were a burly “boss” calling to a 
mob of lazy laborers. She made pauses 
where there were none, and in short read the 


168 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


lines in such a manner that they sounded 
senseless. One would hardly think that pos- 
sible, but Patricia seemed possessed of 
special ability for ‘Hwisting” a song or poem 
until one would hardly know it as a familiar 
thing. 

On the evening when the play was re- 
peated, she appeared in the same peculiar 
costume as before, with a large cluster of 
red roses at her girdle. Curiosity was at 
highest pitch as to what she intended to do. 

She came forward, bowing very low. 
When she once more stood erect, she an- 
nounced : 

‘‘The Bare — foot-boy!’’ 

She paused as a ripple swept over the 
audience, then, when she saw that fans had 
ceased waving, and that the people were 
leaning forward to catch her first words, 


ALABDIN^S LAMP 


169 


she smiled upon them, bowed twice again, 
made a still lower bow, and began the recita- 
tion. 

Blessings! On! Thee little man barefoot! 

Boy with cheeJc! 

Of tan with thy turned ! 

Up! Pantaloons! 

And thy mer ry 

Whist — tied — tunes !^* 

If the audience laughed before, they 
shrieked this time, for surely Patricia had 
fairly outdone herself. 

She was applauded to the echo, but she 
did not reappear. The manager decided 
that her performance was too ridiculous to 
be repeated, and Patricia snatched her hat 
and rushed from the hall, feeling sure that 
the manager had some spiteful reason for 
keeping her away from the footlights. 

Eeally, her gestures had been as droll as 


170 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


her reading, for at little man’’ she had 
pointed straight at a short, stont man in the 
orchestra, at the word cheek” she had 
placed her hands on her hips, and at pan- 
taloons” she had thrown both of her arms 
upward, while at the word, ^Hunes,” she had 
calmly folded her arms, and so on through- 
out the piece ; her gestures had meant 
nothing, serving only to make the meaning 
of the lines more obscure. 

The second evening, as a whole, was a 
success, however, and work upon the fine 
club building was soon to begin. The chil- 
dren had done their part, and they certainly 
had added a goodly sum to that collected by 
their elders. 

Jack remembered his promise to call at 
the flower booth for the pot of azaleas, and 
when he reached the place the little old lady 
was waiting for him. 


ALADDIN^S LAMP 


171 


^‘Ah, you did remember,” she said. 

intended to remember,” Jack replied, 
as he grasped the big flower-pot. 

know you meant to keep your prom- 
ise,” she said with a smile, ^^but after being 
an Oriental lad for an hour and a half, it 
would not be strange if you forgot a few 
things that occurred before the play. You 
played your part well, and, indeed, I think 
the play was wonderfully well acted.” 

They walked along together in the moon- 
light, Jack carrying the azalea. He had 
wanted to tramp along the avenue with Sid- 
ney and Eeginald, to talk over the evening’s 
happenings, but to his surprise he was not 
missing it, for the old lady had travelled 
much, and in her earlier days had picked up 
many odd and curious things. 

There were ancient costumes and quaint 
furnishings in the cottage, and these, to- 


172 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 

gether with historical relics, filled Jack with 
a wild desire. 

Would she let him see those quaint, old 
curios that she described % He was just won- 
dering if he dared ask permission, when they 
reached her garden gate. 

‘Ht is too late, my boy, to ask you in to- 
night,” she said, ^^but some day when you 
are passing I’d like to have you come in and 
see the . odd collection, and any time when 
you want a quaint costume come in and see 
if any that I have will fit you. I’d gladly 
loan you one at any time.” 

‘^Oh, thank you,” Jack said heartily. 
‘H’ll surely come.” 

“There’s an old cross-bow,” she said, 
“and a genuine longbow. There’s a shield, 
and a coat of mail.” 

“When can I see them? I mean, how 
soon?” he asked eagerly. 


ALADDIN^S LAMP 


173 


‘‘To-morrow, if you like,” she said; then, 
“I thank you, dear. Good-night,” and the 
cottage door closed. 

“I’m glad I took the plant home for her,” 
he whispered to himself, as he opened the 
gate and walked out to the street. It was a 
lovely May night, so warm that one knew 
that summer was near. 


CHAPTER X 


jack’s pageant 

J ACK felt a bit shy about going to the 
cottage the very day after he had had 
the invitation. He thought that he 
had been bold to ask how soon he might call, 
but several times he passed the gate, think- 
ing he might see the little old lady in the 
garden, when, doubtless, she would ask him 
to stop. 

He thought of the coat of mail, of the bow- 
gun, and many other ancient things that she 
had described, and he was wild to see them, 
and to hear their history. The little garden 
was beginning to repay her for her toil, for 
there now were blossoms everywhere. 


174 


JACK’S PAGEANT 


175 


Then came a day when he saw her stand- 
ing in the doorway, and she asked him to 
come in. 

What a wonderful hour he spent, looking 
at the curious costumes, and listening 
eagerly to the story that clung to the quaint 
garments. History was Jack’s favorite 
study, and historical objects held him spell- 
bound. 

When at last he thanked her, and turned 
to go, she renewed her offer to loan the cos- 
tumes at any time to him, or to any of his 
friends — whom he believed would handle 
them carefully. 

Jack thought of those costumes, talked of 
them, and then one night he dreamed of 
them. He dreamed that he and his play- 
mates were dressed in the various costumes, 
and that they were marching along, laugh- 
ing and talking as they went. 


176 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


^‘Fine idea!” tie cried when he woke. 
^^That would be fun for all.” 

He lost no time in telling Mollie, who hap- 
pened to be the first one that he met, then 
Sidney came along, and while they stood 
talking Dorothy and Nancy came running 
down the driveway to learn what it was all 
about. 

“Where will you have it?” Reginald 
asked. “Down the avenue to the square?” 

“Of course not,” cried Jack. “Who do 
you think would take part and march 
through Merrivale in such odd rigs?” 

“I don’t know who would,” said Regi- 
nald, “but I know I’d like to.” 

“Why, Reginald Dean, you wouldn’t,” 
said Mollie in disgust. 

“I certainly would,” declared Reginald. 

“Well, I wouldn’t. Why, Chub, if he 
were out there with ’Mandy, would be hoot- 
ing: 


JACK’S PAGEANT 


177 


‘Hark! Hark! The dogth do bark, 

The beggarth are coming to town. 

Thome in ragth, an^ thome in tagth, 

An’ thome in velvet gownth.’ ” 

‘^Oh, I’d not mind that,” laughed Eegi- 
nald. ‘ ^ That would be part of the fun. ’ ’ 

‘‘We can have it in our garden, in that 
part that looks almost like wild land, where 
the trees and shrubs have such heavy foliage. 
There’s a wide walk there, almost as broad 
as a road, and we can enjoy our pageant 
there,” Dorothy offered eagerly. 

“And there’ll be no one following us,” 
said Nancy. 

“That’s true enough,” cried Eeginald, 
“and it’s just as true that no one will see 
us after we’ve bothered to dress up !” 

“Oh, we’ll have enough of an audience,” 
said Dorothy, “for you all know that 
Mother and Aunt Charlotte will be inter- 


178 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


ested, and we surely must invite the dear 
old lady who loans us the quaint, lovely 
things.” 

‘‘I am sure that we shall all be greatly 
interested in this fine pageant,” Mrs. Dainty 
said, as she joined them, ^^and I was think- 
ing as I listened to your merry chatter, that 
a few little informal notes that I will write 
will ensure you an audience of nearly fifty. 
Would that please you?” she asked, look- 
ing from one eager face to another. 

‘‘Oh, that would be fine!” said Dorothy. 

“That certainly will be great!” cried 
Reginald. 

“It will be so great that we must be sure 
to make the pageant fine enough to repay 
Mrs. Dainty for her kindness,” Jack said. 

“Oh, not a word of thanks,” said Mrs. 
Dainty, “for we ‘grown-ups’ are to be enter- 
tained by you boys and girls, and shall surely 


JACK^S PAGEANT 


179 


enjoy it. We must just ^make believe’ that 
the garden is to be honored by a visit from 
warriors, and their fair ladies who have 
returned from past ages. Now, tell me, do 
you think the members of the pageant would 
consent to partaking of a nice little luncheon 
out under the trees?” 

There were shouts of delight from the chil- 
dren, for what had been planned for an out- 
door tableau, or pageant, had turned out to 
be pageant and picnic combined, and what 
could be more charming than that ? 

‘‘And I have a wee secret regarding the 
spread, and I’ll not tell it, but on the day of 
our event I’ll enjoy your surprise,” said 
Mrs. Dainty. 

Excitement reigned. Every one was try- 
ing to tell his idea to the one who stood near- 
est, and in the midst of the chattering Uncle 
Harry arrived. 


180 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


^^Well, well, what a racket!’’ he cried, 
clapping his hands over his ears. ‘^I’ll 
surely be deafened if I’m not careful. I 
came up here because I’d something I wished 
to say, but I can’t get a chance to say it.” 

^‘Oh, what was it?” cried Flossie. 
^^We’re all wild to know. Everybody keep 
still while Uncle Harry tells us something. 
Now, just see how still we are!” 

^‘And now that you are still, I’ve forgot- 
ten what it was,” declared Uncle Harry. 
‘‘Dear me! What could it have been that 
I wanted to say?” 

“He’s just joking!” cried Flossie. 

“Well, now, I think I’ll pay you well for 
making me forget an important errand. 
Come, and come quick, every one of you, and 
get right into my auto. Come, boys! I’ll 
have you all in front with me. Climb in, 
girls, and we’ll have a great ride. 


JACK^S PAGEANT 


181 


Would you mind if we did not return for 
a month, Mrs. Dainty?’’ he asked, looking 
back. 

think I should,” she said, laughing, 
because he looked so serious. 

‘^Oh, well, then, I’ll bring them all back 
in an hour!” he declared, and off down the 
avenue they sped. 

The boys and girls had been eager to make 
the pageant really fine, but now that they 
were to have a kindly interested audience, 
and after the grand procession were to enjoy 
a fine spread out under the great trees, their 
enthusiasm knew no bounds. 

The little old lady, Mrs. Pendleton, had 
offered the use of her quaint costumes, and 
she gladly helped the children to select what 
seemed most becoming. 

For the girls the quaint gowns fitted very 
well except the length of the skirts, but Mrs. 


182 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 

Pendleton turned up wide hems, or made a 
deep tuck so that they could be worn. 

The suits of armor must have been de- 
signed for rather small men; at all events, 
the boys declared that they could wear them. 
There was a veritable medieval array. A 
quaint, dignified costume Sidney Herring- 
ton chose for himself, and very smart he 
looked as he peered out from under the odd 
brim of the hat with its single feather. 

What is that pretty gauze dress Doro- 
thy asked. ^‘Do you know who once wore 
thatr’ 

‘^That is supposed to be the correct cos- 
tume for Ariel, one of Shakespeare’s char- 
acters. A famous dancer once wore that 
dress when she played the part,” Mrs. Pen- 
dleton explained. 

^^May I wear it?” Nancy asked. 

‘^Surely you may, dear,” the old lady 


JACK’S PAGEANT 


183 


said, ‘‘but youVe not seen all the pretty 
dresses yet. You may see one that you will 
prefer.’’ 

“No,” Nancy said firmly, “I don’t know 
why I so wish to wear it, but it seems to me 
that I must/’ 

“Then you surely shall, Nancy,” said Mrs. 
Pendleton. She wondered why the simple 
little white frock with its few spangles and 
gauzy wings had so attracted the little girl. 
Nancy wondered, too, but she only knew that 
she would rather wear it than any of the 
gayer-colored costmnes. 

Dorothy and Mollie chose velvet gowns 
that certainly looked as if designed for royal 
ladies of ancient times. 

Flossie could find nothing small enough 
for her, and was looking very sober indeed, 
when the old lady noticed that she was very 
quiet. 


184 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


‘‘Wliat is it, dear?” she asked. ‘‘Can’t 
yon find a costume that you’d like to wear?” 

“Oh, there are ever so many lovely ones, 
only I’m too little for them,” said Flossie. 
She thought it rude to find fault with the 
costumes so generously offered, so she 
claimed the fault herself. It was not that 
the costumes were too large for her. No, 
indeed! It was that she was too small! 

“Oh, but I have one just your size,” Mrs. 
Pendleton said. “It was worn by a little 
prince, when he acted as page at his cousin’s 
wedding.” 

Flossie danced with delight when she saw 
it. It was indeed a lovely suit, and little 
Flossie, with her fiaxen hair and sturdy 
figure would make a dear little page. 

There was much planning after they left 
the cottage, but finally it was decided that 
Nancy, as the fairy, Ariel, should dance 


JACKS PAGEANT 


185 


along the path, the first figure in the long 
line ; that Eeginald, with his banner, should 
surely come next; a fine lady in velvet was 
Dorothy, then Sidney, then Jack, in armor, 
and mounted upon a steed protected by 
armor as formidable as the complete suit 
of mail worn by his rider, and thus a place 
was chosen for each, and it certainly seemed 
as if a fine procession were assured. There 
were many rehearsals in ordinary dress, and 
Mrs. Dainty and Aunt Charlotte promised 
not to so much as peep from a window on 
that side of the Stone House, and, at last, 
all was in readiness. 

‘‘Saturday, at three in the afternoon,’’ 
was the time set for the pageant, and a half- 
hour earlier the guests arrived and were 
directed to the far end of the garden, where 
seats had been placed for them. 


186 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


A huge canvas had been hung from a rope 
stretched between two sturdy oaks, and from 
behind it came sounds of preparation. 

‘‘Where’s my helmet?” cried one voice. 

“I don’t know, unless it’s hiding in com- 
pany with my shield,” replied another. 

“Somebody pin up this skirt, so I can 
step. The train isn’t a bit too long, so don’t 
shorten that. It’s only in front that it both- 
ers me,” said a voice that was surely Doro- 
thy’s. 

“It doesn’t matter how long it is, because 
I’m the page who carries it,” Flossie replied. 

At that a wee voice from the audience 
made itself heard. “Dat’s Flossie!” it 
cried, “I dess I’ll go and find Flossie.” 

“Not now, dear,” Uncle Harry said, as 
he held his small daughter closer. ‘ ‘ They ’re 
busy in behind the curtain. The girls are 
putting long dresses right over their short 


JACK’S PAGEANT 


187 


ones, and the boys are gathering up their 
bows and spears.’’ 

like dose boys,” the wee girl replied, 
^^an’ I’ll do an’ help dose boys.” 

‘‘No, no, dear. Sit still, and pretty soon 
you ’ll see something fine. Be nice little lady, 
dear,” coaxed Uncle Harry. 

“Tired of bein’ lil’ lady,” she responded, 
but a blare of trumpet made her sit very 
still, her eyes widened with wonder. 

Arthur Herrington, Sidney’s brother, had 
agreed to be trumpeter, and clarion notes he 
blew from his silver cornet. 

Mrs. Dainty and Aunt Charlotte were 
talking with Mrs. Merton and Mrs. Barnet, 
when suddenly some one cried, “There they 
come!” and all turned toward where the 
flapping canvas hung. 

Out from behind the heavy shrubbery 
came the procession, the sunlight gleaming 


188 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


upon their banners, their armor and the 
bright costumes of the girls. 

Nancy, light of foot, danced ahead, as if 
she were a fairy herald, doing dainty steps 
and laughing as she went. 

^ ‘ W elcome ! W elcome ! ’ ’ she cried, in her 
sweet, low voice, ^‘and may our pageant 
please you!” 

Keginald, Dorothy, Sidney ; how fine they 
looked ! 

Jack found the fine suit of armor was 
rather large for him. Indeed, it had re- 
quired a short step-ladder and much ‘^boost- 
ing” from the groom to get him mounted, 
to say nothing of the fact that his horse had 
objected to an armor-clad rider, but finally 
stopped prancing and agreed to let him re- 
main in the saddle. 

Sidney Herrington, saucy in his doublet 
and hose, fairly glared as he strode with 



Out from behind the heavy shrubbery came the procession 

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JACKS PAGEANT 


189 


dignity, and Eeginald, with his banner, made 
a fine figure. 

Dorothy, with her velvet gown, was indeed 
a lady fair, and it was imjDossible to say who, 
of all the train, was finest. 

There were warriors in ancient garments, 
carrying crossbows, and others with spears. 
There were Roman girls, Spanish girls, and 
it was a lovely pageant, indeed, as they made 
their way along the winding paths, with 
flashing steel and glowing colors. It was 
a very unusual sight for Merrivale. 

Again they were recalled, and once more 
they passed in review before their delighted 
friends. Then the knights and bowmen, 
squires and pages, led their ladies to where 
the feast was spread under the tall trees, and 
what a feast it was ! And finest of all was 
the center-piece, a knight in armor made of 
sugar frosting, standing proudly in the cen- 


190 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


ter of a big, round cake. That was Mrs. 
Dainty’s surprise! 

‘‘Ob-o-o ! Who ever guessed we’d see so 
lovely a center-piece as that?” cried Flossie. 

‘‘See the fine figure!” cried Eeginald. 

“And the cake with frosting that looks 
like lace!” said Mollie. 

“See the little banner he carries, and his 
shield,” said Sidney. 

“He’s a dandy knight!” cried Jack. 

“And we are as much surprised as you,” 
said Dorothy, “for this is the first time that 
Nancy and I have seen it.” 

“Oh, we thought that you and Nancy had 
surely seen it,” said Mollie. 

“I thought Dorothy and Nancy would 
enjoy the surprise as much as any of their 
guests, so I did not tell them a word about 
it.” 

“Well, he certainly looks as if he felt 


JACK’S PAGEANT 


191 


delighted with your praise of his fine ap- 
pearance,’’ said Mrs. Dainty. 

It had been a beautiful spectacle, and now, 
as they sat enjoying the good things, the 
children felt that their efforts had been well 
expended. From all sides came words of 
praise and pleasure, and it was easy to see 
that the pageant had been appreciated. 
Indeed, it would have been hard to say which 
had most enjoyed it, the little performers or 
their parents and friends. 

Uncle Harry told an interesting story 
about a brave knight who found his lovely 
princess in an enchanted castle, and the chil- 
dren held their breath as he told how he 
swung her up on his charger and rode away 
with her to safety. 

‘‘And did he wear a tin coat like Jack’s, 
an’ a tin bonnet, too ?” asked the wee girl. 

“Jack’s suit is iron, and what he wears 


192 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


upon his head is a helmet, dear,’’ said Uncle 
Harry. 

he’met/^ she repeated, ^Vell, Jack’s 
a pretty boy!” 

The compliment made Jack blush, while 
the others laughed gayly. 

think I’ll take off my Hin coat,’ ” he 
said, because it’s a bit awkward at the 
table.” 

like my long, red velvet train,” said 
Dorothy, ‘^so I’ll wear it until we’ve finished 
our spread.” 

^‘You little ladies in your quaint costumes 
certainly grace the banquet,” said Mrs. 
Merton. 

^H’ve so enjoyed the afternoon,” said 
Mrs. Barnet, ‘^and I think we all were sur- 
prised to see what a fine procession these 
boys and girls prepared, without the assist- 
ance of older people.” 


JACKS PAGEANT 


193 


Was it as good as you thought it would 
be Dorothy asked, looking up eagerly into 
her mother’s face. 

‘‘I felt sure that it would be well worth 
seeing, and because I was so certain of its 
success, I invited our friends to enjoy it with 
us, but it surely exceeded my expectation. 
I am sure that we all were surprised, and 
also very proud of our young people. 

‘^It seems to me that I never saw any- 
thing prettier than the brave boys in armor, 
and the girls in their regal gowns and quaint 
headdresses.” 

The ices and cakes disappeared as if by 
magic, and the glasses of orangeade were 
drained of their nectar. 

It had, indeed, been a delightful little out- 
door pageant. 


CHAPTER XI 


A GENUINE SURPRISE PARTY 

Y our Uncle Harry didn’t give the 
party he spoke of,” Mollie said 
one day, as she sat beside Flossie 
in the hammock on the porch. wonder 
why. Oh, I guess it was because he has been 
away almost all winter.” 

‘^Yes; that’s just why,” Flossie replied, 
‘‘but he’ll surely make a lovely party for us, 
because he always does what he says he’ll 
do, and the last time he spoke of it, he said 
it would be full of surprises.” 

“He’s great fun, and he seems to know 
just how to be amusing,” said Mollie, “and 
the boys are quite as fond of him as we are. 
I heard Sidney Herrington say that he’d 


194 


A GENUINE SURPRISE PARTY 195 

like to be just like Uncle Harry when he’s 
a man.” 

‘‘Why, Mollie Merton, I heard Eeginald 
Dean say that very thing this morning,” 
said Flossie, “and look! There’s Uncle 
Harry driving up the road.” 

“Well, who wouldn’t look?” Mollie said, 
laughing. “He’s driving one car, and his 
chauffeur is driving another!” 

“Well, ladies, are you ready?” he asked, 
as he stepped from the car, and stood before 
them, as if waiting eagerly for the answer 
to his question. 

“Ready?” Flossie questioned. “To ride 
with you? Oh, we’ll go this very minute, 
but who is going in the other car? Where 
are we going, and who — ?” 

“I’m sure you remember that my party 
was to be a surprise party. Well, this is 
only the first surprise. Get right in, and 


196 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


we’ll call for the others on the way. Each 
will be surprised to learn that this is the day 
for the party.” 

^‘Oh, what fun!” cried Mollie, ‘‘but we’re 
not dressed for a party.” 

“Just another surprise,” Uncle Harry 
said, coolly. “Any one, given time enough, 
can dress for a party, but my guests are 
going, not in ‘party dress.’ ” 

“That is true, too,” agreed Flossie. 

“I believe I can catch one girl, at least, 
wearing a sunbonnet!” Uncle Harry de- 
clared, and he was not simply guessing, for 
just ahead was the Correyville home, and 
on the low wall sat Arabella, wearing a sun- 
bonnet. 

“Good-morning, Arabella!” Uncle Harry 
called. “Please jump right in, and be one 
of the guests at my surprise party.” 

“I couldn’t wear this dress,” Arabella 


A GENUINE SURPRISE PARTY 197 


said slowly, “but I could be ready in a half 
an hour/’ 

“ ^No time like the present.’ Come right 
along. Your dress is all right, and I adore 
sunbonnets.” 

“Can’t I even — ” 

“No, indeed!’^ said Uncle Harry. “We 
can’t wait a minute. Jump right in.” 

Arabella rose slowly from the wall, and 
fairly crawled toward the car, where Mollie, 
completely out of patience, grasped her arm 
and rather forcibly helped her in. 

Flossie looked at Mollie, and Mollie un- 
derstood the look. 

“Well, I didn’t mean to be rough,” she 
whispered, “but I do think that once in a 
while she might hurry just a bit! I hope I 
didn’t hurt her.” 

They were now at the great gate of the 
Stone House. The old gardener, training a 


198 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


vine that overhung the wall, touched his hat 
and came out to greet them. 

‘^Can I be of sarvice ter ye?” he asked. 

‘‘You surely can,” Uncle Harry said. 
“Just get my two little friends for me.” 

“Ay, that I will,” he said, adding, “they’re 
out on the lawn, an’ cornin’ toward ye, sir, 
this vera minute. 

“Miss Dorothy!” he shouted. “Yerself 
an’ Miss Nancy is wanted, most pertic’lar, 
this instant, an’ roight here at the gate.” 

“Will you two little ladies sit very close 
together so that my niece, Flossie, whom 
you know to be huge, can sit on the seat, 
also?” Uncle Harry asked, as earnestly as 
if Flossie, the smallest of all the little 
friends, were really a giant. 

Dorothy and Nancy assured him that they 
would not be at all crowded, as they took 
their places beside Flossie. He insisted that 


A GENUINE SURPRISE PARTY 199 


Arabella sit close beside him, and Mollie 
next. He knew that he could keep Arabella 
from annoying the others, and just possibly 
make her enjoy the trip. She rarely ap- 
peared to enjoy anything, but to pick up 
the others on the way he was obliged to pass 
her house, and he was too kind to let her 
feel that she was ‘‘left out.’’ 

As they were about to start off, little Fluff 
raced out to the car and barked loudly, then 
whined. 

“Well, well, little chap ! Does it feel like 
that to be left at home Get aboard, then, 
and come along. Can’t wait for you to 
change your fur coat. You must come just 
as you are!” 

With little yelps of delight. Fluff bounded 
into the car, and as the door closed he settled 
down in Dorothy’s lap, content that he was 
one of the party. 


200 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


Farther along the avenue Uncle Harry 
espied Eeginald Dean. He was just return- 
ing from a private dancing-lesson, as his 
black velvet suit and patent leather pumps 
testified. Reginald had stopped to talk with 
Sidney Herrington. Sidney was helping 
Arthur, and both wore overalls. Arthur was 
pulling up the weeds that had sprung up 
in the driveway, and Sidney was raking 
them into little heaps. 

‘‘Come right along, boys!’’ called Uncle 
Harry. “We’re off to enjoy my party, and 
we can’t wait a minute.” 

“Reginald is decently dressed, but look 
at us! We won’t be long fixing up a bit,” 
pleaded Sidney. 

‘ ‘ Time is precious. Can ’t wait a second 1 ’ ’ 
declared Uncle Harry. “Get right into the 
second car, please,” and in they climbed, 
laughing at the joke. 


A GENUINE SURPRISE PARTY 201 


‘‘We’ll be a fine-looking pair,” said Sid- 
ney, “but we’re obeying our host, and wbat 
else could we do?” 

“Nothing,” said Arthur, “but I do won- 
der what the joke is.” 

At a bend of the road a girl was trying to 
persuade two small dogs to move along. 
Each was on leash, and both had sat down 
upon the sidewalk as if content to spend the 
day there. 

“Good-morning, Patricia! We’re off to 
enjoy my surprise party. Step right into 
the second car, please,” Uncle Harry said. 

“Don’t hesitate,” he added, as she seemed 
reluctant to come. “The boys won’t mind 
the dogs. Take them right along.” 

“Oh, do let me have just time to dress,” 
wailed Patricia. 

“Can’t do it,” Uncle Harry said, firmly. 
“You can leave fussy dresses behind, but I 


202 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 

don’t intend to leave you behind, when we’re 
off for such a lovely time. W ill you come ? ’ ’ 

A second she wavered, but catching a 
glimpse of Arabella’s sunbonnet in the first 
car, and the overalls in the second, she 
laughed and waited for no more urging. 

Of course the boys enjoyed the two comi- 
cal pups. Who ever saw a boy who did not 
like dogs, large or small'? 

Soon they were fiying over the road, and 
had left Merrivale far behind. The sun 
was hot, and Uncle Harry turned into a road 
that ^as bordered on either side by tall 
trees. 

Patricia was pleased to have her pets made 
much of, and, for once, talked of something 
besides her hats and gowns. She could be 
very pleasant when she chose, and even 
Reginald decided that she was a better com- 
panion than he had thought. 


A GENUINE SURPRISE PARTY 203 

Hello! Jack Tiverton!’’ called Uncle 
Harry. Jump in and join our party.” 

don’t \Yait to be urged,” cried Jack, 
and be clambered in beside Reginald. 

‘^Tbis surely is a very funny party, and 
I’ll bet we haven’t seen balf tbe fun yet!” 

Jack was right. Their host had used in- 
genuity in planning his party. 

^‘That’s Glenham Woods on the left,” 
said Arthur. “Isn’t it odd that a big, rocky 
ledge like that should be right here beside 
the road, when just beyond it is an open 
field without so much as a tiny stone in 
sight?” 

Both machines stopped, as if with one 
accord, and Uncle Harry, the first one out, 
remarked casually: 

“We might get out here and spend a little 
time looking for strawberries, or white 
grapes. I believe I prefer white grapes.” 


204 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


‘‘We’ll have quite a hunt!” said Sidney, 
with a laugh. 

“Do you think so'?” Uncle Harry said, 
anxiously. “Now that is odd. I’ve thought 
that this would be just the place to look for 
them. Well, we’ll walk around that little 
field over there just to stretch ourselves a 
bit before riding farther. Come on!” he 
cried, leading the way. 

What was the joke, for surely some sort 
of joke it must be. A peep around the big 
ledge displayed another surprise, for there 
they saw an inviting spread in readiness. 

“Well, well, Flossie, if there isn’t our but- 
ler, away out here, with all sorts of goodies 
set out, as if he were actually expecting 
guests. Sandwiches, cakes, ices, and, as I 
live! White grapes! Now, isn’t that odd, 
when I was speaking of white grapes just a 
minute ago!” 


A GENUINE SURPRISE PARTY 205 


‘ ‘ Oh, Uncle Harry ! You just planned all 
this, and sent Marcus over here ! ” cried Flos- 
sie. 

‘^Who did? I did? You really think I 
did ? Well, well, what a notion, Flossie ! 

‘^Well, come, everybody. Don’t wait a 
second. Dorothy can manage little Fluff. 
Patricia, you can keep one of your pets be- 
side you, but you never could keep two in 
order. I want that comical fellow beside 
me. I’ll enjoy studying his table manners. 
I’ve an idea that he is greedy.” 

Little Fluff behaved very nicely, and sat 
erect, each time that the big butler passed 
with a tray of good things, and he quietly 
ate whatever was given him, but Patricia 
was obliged constantly to watch Algernon 
lest he put his paws upon the cloth, and once 
he actually started to walk across it. Evi- 
dently he wished to take his choice of the 


206 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


good things so generously spread for the 
guests. 

Uncle Harry fared better, for Lionel 
seemed content to sit quietly beside him, and 
accept gratefully whatever was offered him. 
Indeed, he blinked at Algernon as if he was 
amazed at his wretched manners, for Alger- 
non swallowed a sandwich whole, and looked 
around for another. 

What a treat it was to have such a deli- 
cious lunch at a time and place when they 
least expected it ! There was every sort of 
sandwich, there were fine cakes and ices, and 
in the center a basket of the finest chocolates 
and bonbons. 

How they talked and laughed. Uncle 
Harry told stories of his school days that 
were delightfully interesting, until he de- 
clared that he could not think of another to 
tell. 


A GENUINE SURPRISE PARTY 207 

‘‘Yes, I can,” he said a moment later, 
“and it’s a fish story, too, but I’ll not tell it 
until Marcus has passed the fish.” 

“Fish!” cried Flossie. “Oh, Uncle 
Harry ! You are not going to have fish after 
cake!” 

“Oh, that is all right. It is a dainty kind 
offish.” 

Marcus could not restrain a smile, for all 
his dignity. Around the jolly group of 
feasters he proceeded, his tray held high, 
so that they might not see the sort of fish 
that lay upon the platter. 

“Oh-o-o!” they cried, when he placed it 
on the center of the cloth. The fish, a large 
one, was molded from strawberry ice-cream, 
and every one was eager for a “slice” of the 
big pink fish. 

Even little Fluff had his share of it, and 
made fun for the company by taking a 


208 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


greedy mouthful, swallowing it, and then 
barking because it was colder than he 
thought it should be. Then he would look 
at it, think how sweet it was, snatch another 
mouthful, and bark again. Dorothy sof- 
tened the remainder with a spoon, and he ate 
the melted cream as if he thought it much 
improved. 

‘‘He’s a cute little dog,” said Jack, “and 
funny, too, objecting to the ice-cream be- 
cause it was cold, and yet liking it so well 
that he ate it all. Say, boys! We ought to 
have built a bonfire and toasted it for him.” 

“Oh, well, he would have liked that if you 
had held a dish under it to catch it as fast 
as it melted,” said Sidney. 

“You would have liked warmed cream, 
wouldn’t you, little Fluff?” Dorothy said, 
putting her arm around him, to which he 
promptly answered, “Wow!” 


A GENUINE SURPRISE PARTY 209 


It certainly had been a genuine surprise 
party, and they had enjoyed the fun of all 
the unexpected happenings. 

^^Boys and girls, we must be starting to- 
ward home. Shall we ride, or would you 
prefer to walk?’’ Uncle Harry asked, as 
coolly as if it were not a question of tramp- 
ing for miles. 

^^Why, Uncle Harry, you know it’s ever 
so far to walk,” declared Flossie. 

‘^So it is,” he agreed, as if it had not 
occurred to him until Flossie had reminded 
him. 

‘H think we may as well ride, for really it 
would be rather hard on the dogs to make 
them walk.” 

^^And how about us?” questioned Regi- 
nald, with a laugh. 

‘^Well, we might as well ride, if the dogs 
do,” he said. 


210 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


When they were all seated, and Marcus 
had packed all the hampers in the second 
machine, Uncle Harry called to him : 

say, Marcus ! Which is the most direct 
road to Merrivale"?’’ 

^^The one on your right, sir,’’ said Marcus. 

‘‘Oh, then we must go the other way, 
straight ahead,” said Uncle Harry. 

“Why must we?” cried laughing voices. 

“Because this party is to be different in 
every respect from what any one would 
expect,” said Uncle Harry, “and so, because 
you are, by this time, sure that we shall con- 
tinue straight ahead, I think I’ll turn to the 
right.” 

Arabella, up to this time, had been very 
quiet, but she now leaned forward, and after 
staring at, first, one side of the road, and 
then the other, drawled a remark. 

“I think I’d rather know where I’m 


A GENUINE SURPRISE PARTY 211 

going,” she said. She was always fond of 
objecting. 

^‘Oh, Arabella!” cried Mollie. is 

surely fun to wonder which way we will 
drive next.” 

just sure I’d rather know — ” Ara- 
bella started to repeat, but Tess interrupted. 

‘‘Yovl do know, Arabella ! You just surely 
know that you are going toward home.” 

Arabella settled back in her seat and made 
no reply. One never could tell if she were 
angry, or only dully surprised. Uncle 
Harry had said that he should take each of 
his guests directly home, saying that as 
Patricia lived at the greatest distance from 
the center, he would stop first at her door. 

^^Oh, please take me to Arabella’s house. 
I’ll stop there before I go home,” Patricia 
hastened to say. 

She would greatly have enjoyed the sur- 


212 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


prise of her neighbors when the fine car 
stopped at her door, and they peeped from 
their windows to see her alight, but there 
was another view of the matter. Dirty little 
^^Chub” would probably be out at play in 
the puddles that were always on that street. 
He could be counted on for throwing mud 
at the party, or dropping a huge stone into 
the puddle just in time to splash the dirty 
water upon the handsome car and its occu- 
pants. 

^‘Be sure you stop at Arabella’s for me, — 
oh — of course, you’d take her home, but 
what I mean is, you needn’t stop at my 
house.” 

The small dogs behaved wonderfully well. 
Little Fluff sat contentedly upon Dorothy’s 
lap, and stared at the two comical pups as 
if he wondered where any one could have 
found such funny dogs. 


CHAPTER XII 


Flossie’s wonderful news 

D orothy and Nancy sat on an old 
stone seat near the fountain, their 
heads close together, reading a let- 
ter from Betty Chase, and a jolly letter it 
was. 

The first and second pages told of the hap- 
penings among the pupils at Glenmore, and 
then Betty told of the iron rule of Miss Fen- 
ler, or ‘‘The Fender/^ as the pupils called 
her. She was a stern, cold, determined 
woman who strove to maintain discipline. 
Rarely did she show even slight interest in 
the pupils, and as a result she was detested. 

“She hears things that we never meant 
for her to hear, and sees things that make 


213 


214 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


us almost ready to believe that she has eyes 
that can see right through walls. You’d 
say so, too, if you were here, for no matter 
how careful we are about planning good 
times, she’s always just in time to spoil our 
fun. I know she is a sort of monitor, and 
watch dog, all in one, but we girls think she 
truly enjoys her task, and so we dislike her. 

‘‘Something funny happened on April 
Fool’s Day. We had been out for a walk 
after school, and came back over the main 
road. We had been playing jokes on each 
other all day, and we were laughing and 
talking as we walked along. Just as we 
reached the gate the postman gave me a 
small package for Miss Fenler. She hap- 
pened to be out on the porch, and I ran up 
the driveway, just a bit ahead of the others 
to give it to her. ‘Here is something that 
the postman asked me to give to you, ’ I said. 
You should have seen her! She threw up 
her hands and shrieked, ‘Take it away! 
Take it away ! ’ 

“ ‘But it truly is for you, Miss Fenler,’ I 
said. ‘The postman left it.’ 

“ ‘You know that is just a contemptible 
joke!’ she cried, and she wouldn’t touch it, 
so I put it down on the porch and turned 
to go, when I suppose she noticed the ad- 
dress, and the stamps on it, because she 


FLOSSIE’S WONDERFUL NEWS 215 


called me back. She looked queer enough 
as she said, ‘I see that the package is one 
that the postman must have left, and I thank 
you. ’ Then she turned and went in. 

heard that one of the girls had bought 
a little toy mouse and put it in a small box 
and set it beside her plate at breakfast. We 
were late to breakfast, so we weren’t down 
in the dining-room when it happened, but 
the girls that were there said she really had 
a fit. She must have thought that I was 
offering her another one, and perhaps she 
thought I’d caught a live one and put it in 
the parcel that I offered her. She has heard 
me say that I am not afraid of a mouse. I 
guess she wishes she hadn’t let us see her 
jump and squeal, just because I handed her 
a little parcel. 

There’s a big, fat boy who is a pupil over 
at the boys’ school in the next town, and we 
don’t know what his name is, so we call him 
‘Dumpling.’ Well, he gave a box of candy 
to Valerie Dare, and because it came on 
April First, she didn’t dare taste it. 

^Who knows whether it is safe to eat, 
or whether it has been filled with pepper, 
or anything else that would make it any- 
thing but pleasant for the one who dared 
taste itV Valerie said, and she left it on the 
table in our chamber. 


216 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 

‘‘Valerie and I are lucky, and we found 
out about the candy. When we came back 
to our room after breakfast the maid was 
eating a piece of it. She was tidying our 
room when we went down to the dining-room 
and heard us say that we were afraid to taste 
the bonbons. We were glad to know that 
she had tested it, but Valerie says she 
needn’t have eaten half of it to make sure 
that it was pure. 

“Why-ee! The clock has raced ahead 
while I ’ve been writing and I must stop now 
if my lessons are to be ready for to-morrow. 

“Just room on this page to send my love 
to you and Nancy, and to all the jolly boys 
and girls that I met when I was at Merri- 
vale. 

“Oh, one thing more. We are going to 
Foam Ridge soon. Are you to be there ? I 
do hope so, because you two girls are the 
dearest that I know, and if you are there, 
you’ll make the summer perfect for 
“Your loving friend, 

“Betty Chase. 

“P. S. Mother says I should sign my 
name ‘Elizabeth,’ but I think ‘Betty’ seems 
to fit me. I don’t know how to be stately, 
and Elizabeth sounds so very dignified. (I 
spelled that right. I looked in the dic- 
tionary.) ” 


FLOSSIE’S WONDERFUL NEWS 217 

I wish we were to be at the shore 
again this summer, and I’d like to be at 
‘Foam Eidge,’ ” said Dorothy. ‘‘Wouldn’t 
you, Nancy?” 

“Yes,” Nancy said, slowly. Then she 
added, “It certainly was lovely there, and 
we had such fine times. I don’t believe old 
Bonfanti would dare to go there again.” 

“Of course he wouldn’t,” said Dorothy. 
“He’d be arrested the moment he left the 
boat. My father said so.” 

“It was lovely at Foam Eidge,” Nancy 
said, as if Dorothy’s words had chased away 
her fear. 

Aunt Charlotte, on a low seat near the 
gateway, had laid her book aside to watch 
the two whom she so dearly loved. 

Mrs. Pendleton, on her way up the ave- 
nue, paused at the driveway to speak to 
Dorothy and Nancy, then, spying Aunt 


218 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


Charlotte, she decided to stop for a little 
chat. There was a puzzling question that 
she longed to ask. For days she had been 
thinking of it, and here was a chance to ask 
for a possible solution. 

‘‘I have thought much of Nancy’s won- 
derful dancing,” she said, ‘‘for surely at 
the fair her part in ‘Aladdin’ was a striking 
feature, and the manner in which she led the 
procession was that of a professional.” 

“Well, Nancy, for a time, did profes- 
sional work,” Aunt Charlotte replied. 

“And is her talent inherited? Were any 
of her people gifted dancers?” 

“Her mother was famous for her grace 
and skill as a dancer, and it was always said 
that she was as pure and good as she was 
lovely. Indeed, there are those who declare 
that Madam Nannette Ferris was pure as 
a pearl.” 


FLOSSIE’S WONDERFUL NEWS 219 

^‘Nannette Ferris !” cried Mrs. Pendleton. 
^‘Nannette Ferris! Why, then Nancy led 
the procession in the dress that her own 
lovely mother once wore!” 

Nancy had heard, and with pale cheeks 
she ran to Mrs. Pendleton and dropped upon 
her knees on the grass beside her. 

^‘Oh, tell me, did my mother wear it, the 
very dress I wore*?” she cried. 

‘‘Yes, Nancy ; and on a bit of ribbon inside 
its belt is her name,” said Mrs. Pendleton, 
placing her arm around the little shoulders 
that were trembling. 

“I told you I felt that I must wear that 
dress and no other,” said Nancy. “You 
showed me brighter-colored costumes, but 
somehow I could wear no other than that. 
And while I had it on I felt lighter to dance, 
and oh, so happy!” 

“Nancy, dear, you shall own that costume, 


220 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


for I feel that it rightly belongs to yon,” 
Mrs. Pendleton said. 

may have it to keep? Always to 
keep?” Nancy asked, her eyes eager, and 
her little hands clasping and unclasping, so 
precious seemed the promised gift. 

‘‘ ‘Always to keep,’ dear,” repeated Mrs. 
Pendleton. 

“Oh, I don’t know how to thank you, be- 
cause the costume means so much to me. 
Aunt Charlotte so often tells me to try to be 
pure and good as my mother was, and I 
mean to, and now I think the dress my 
mother wore will help me. Do you know 
what I mean? Whenever I lay my hand 
softly on it, I know I’ll feel almost as if she 
were near.” 

There was a bright light in Nancy’s eyes 
as she finished, and Mrs. Pendleton whis- 
pered softly: “Bless the child of Nannette 


FLOSSIE^S WONDERFUL NEWS 221 

Ferris,” and the words were a devout 
prayer. 

Aunt Charlotte walked down the drive- 
way to the gate with Mrs. Pendleton, and 
Dorothy, her arm around Nancy, softly 
whispered: We ’ll both love the pretty cos- 
tume, now we know who once wore it.” 

A few days had passed, when ‘‘My Uncle 
Harry has bought an island ! A real, truly 
island!” cried Flossie, as she came running 
up the path that led to the fountain. 

Dorothy and Nancy dropped their skip- 
ping-ropes, and ran to meet her, and to hear 
the news that she was evidently wild to tell. 

“There’s a great, big house on it, and 
another big house close beside it, and the 
two are almost like one house, because 
there’s a funny long thing that joins them, 
but what did he call it*? Oh, I know. He 


222 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


calls it a covered gallery, and we’re all 
going down there this summer to live in one 
house, and you are going there to live in the 
other, that is. Uncle Harry wants you to, so 
of course you will. People always do what 
Uncle Harry wants them to do. Aren’t you 
glad you’re going to be on that lovely island 
with us?” she asked eagerly. 

Dear, loving little Flossie could think of 
nothing finer than that Dorothy and Nancy 
should be her neighbors on the little island 
that Uncle Harry had described so charm- 
ingly, and she felt sure that no one could 
refuse to spend the siunmer there if Uncle 
Harry wished it. What would he have 
thought had he known that Flossie was 
already telling Dorothy and Nancy that they 
were surely going there, before he had had 
an opportunity to invite Mrs. Dainty. and 
Aunt Charlotte to spend the summer? 


FLOSSIE’S WONDERFUL NEWS 223 


Flossie liad eagerly listened while he had 
described the houses on the island, and when 
Mrs. Barnet had asked w^ho was to occupy 
the other house, he had said, ^‘We should 
enjoy Mrs. Dainty as a near neighbor, and 
Dorothy and Nancy are so fond of Flossie 
that they would have a happy summer to- 
gether. I dl go over to the Stone House this 
evening and ask her to enjoy the place with 
us. 

^^She could take her own servants with 
her, and really be in a separate house, yet 
able to neighbor with us even on stormy days, 
because the covered gallery that joins the 
second-story of one house to the second-story 
of the other makes it possible for the two 
families to visit without going out of doors.’’ 

Flossie considered the matter wholly set- 
tled, and so flew up the avenue with the glad 


news. 


224 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


‘^What is the name of the island?” Doro- 
thy asked. 

“Oh, I forgot to tell yon,” said Flossie, 
“but it has a lovely name. It’s called ^Gem 
Island,’ and Uncle Harry says there are tall 
trees back of the two houses, and in one place 
high cliffs are all along the water’s edge, so 
that when you are on the shore of the main- 
land the island looks like cliffs coming right 
up out of the sea, and the big house with the 
towers and turrets looks like a castle on the 
cliffs. 

“Round on the other side of the island 
there’s a fine beach. Oh, won’t we have 
lovely times, we three, on ^Gem Island’?” 

“Oh, lovely, great!” cried Nancy, and 
Dorothy added: “If we do really go there, 
and, oh, I hope we shall.” 

“And where is the island?” Dorothy 
asked a moment later. 


FLOSSIE^S WONDERFUL NEWS 225 


‘‘I wonder I didn’t tell yon that first of 
all,” said Flossie. ‘‘It’s just a little way 
from Foam Eidge, and Uncle Harry has a 
cute motor-boat, so we can go over to Foam 
Eidge any time we wish.” 

“I don’t remember seeing an island when 
we were down there ; do you, Nancy?” Doro- 
thy asked. 

“I don’t remember it,” said Nancy. 

“Well, it isn’t where we could have seen it 
from the part of the beach where we were. 
Uncle Harry says it is a wee little trip from 
the island to the shore of Foam Eidge, but 
it is opposite the far end of the beach, away 
over toward the next town. We shall be 
all by ourselves on Gem Island, but we can 
go over to the mainland, and we — ” 

But while Flossie was speaking a drawl- 
ing voice interrupted: “Going down to 
Maine?” it said. 


226 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 

It was tall, lanky Leander Correyville, 
who, with his hands in his pockets, came 
slouching toward them. He had crossed the 
lawn while they were so busily talking they 
had not heard his approach. 

Maine'? Flossie didn’t say anything 
about Maine,” Nancy said. 

They had already forgotten that Flossie 
had spoken of making the trip from Gem 
Island to the mainland. Those two words 
were what Leander had heard, and he still 
believed that they had been talking of the 
State of Maine, and that, for some reason, 
they would not tell him. 

“Well, I’ll tell you something that will 
surprise you. Arabella and I have decided 
that we’ll take a course of study this sum- 
mer, and we’re not telling what it is, but 
we know one thing that is sure. When 
we’ve taken it we’ll be real graceful.” 


FLOSSIES WONDERFUL NEWS 227 


Having told as mucli as he cared to tell, 
he turned and walked down the driveway. 
They looked after him, and then each turned 
to look at the other. 

^‘Oh, my, we mustn’t laugh,” said Doro- 
thy, but her blue eyes were dancing. 

Eeally, Leander had said it in a manner 
that made it droll. He had looked at them 
as seriously as if he were asking them to 
^believe the impossible, and, indeed, the little 
girls might well wonder what manner of 
study could give grace to Arabella and 
Leander. 

They soon forgot Leander when Flossie 
began to tell more about the wonderful 
island. 

Uncle Harry says it has the finest places 
to hide in when we play ^hide-and-seek,’ and 
the people who owned it before Uncle Harry 
bought it had loads and loads of fine loam 


228 DOROTHY AT THE STONE HOUSE 


shipped down there, so that up near the 
house the flowers grow and blossom, and the 
lawns are fine, and yet, so near those gardens 
is the broad, sandy beach. 

‘^We could play that the island was en- 
chanted, and that we just had to stay on it, 
and that would be fun, because all the time 
we’d know that we could go out on the water, 
or to Foam Ridge if we chose,” said Doro- 
thy. 

‘^It truly does sound great!” said Nancy. 

That very evening. Uncle Harry went 
over to the Stone House, and in less than no 
time it was settled that the neighbors who 
so enjoyed each other’s company should 
spend summer days together at Gem Island. 
Uncle Harry’s description of its beauty had 
charmed Mrs. Dainty and Aunt Charlotte, 
and Dorothy and Nancy had been so eager 
that it was agreed that in two weeks from 


FLOSSIE’S WONDERFUL NEWS 229 

that day they would take up their abode on 
the lovely little island. 

Of the good times enjoyed there, of the 
exciting things that happened, of the fun 
and frolic, and the puzzling mystery, one 
may read in 

‘‘Dorothy Dainty at Gem Island.” 



** Brick House Books’"’ 

By NINA RhOADBS 

Cicih l2mo lUustrAted $1*25 CAch 


Priscilla of the 

Doll Shop 

'^HE ** Brick House Books,*’ as they are 
called from their well-known cover de- 
signs, are eagerly sought by children all over 
the country. There are three good stories in 
this book, instead of one, and it is hard to 
say which little girls, and boys, too, for that 
matter, will like the best. 

Brave Little Peggy 

P>EGGY comes from California to New Jersey to live with a brother and 
sister whom she has not known since very early childhood. She is so 
democratic in her social ideas that many amusing scenes occur, and it is 
hard for her to understand many things that she must learn. But her good 
heart carries her through, and her conscientiousness and moral courage 
win affection and happiness. 

The Other Sylvia 

jTIGHT-year-old Sylvia learns that girls who 
are “ Kings’ Daughters ” pledge themselves 
to some kind act or service, and that one little 
girl named Mary has taken it upon herself to be 
helpful to* all the Marys of her acquaintance. 
This is such an interesting way of doing good that 
she adopts it in spite of her unusual name, and 
really finds not only “ the other Sylvia,” but great 
happiness. 


Por sale by ail booksefiera or sent postpaid on receipt off 
price by the pubiisbers 

LOTHROP. LEE & SHEPARD CO., BOSTON 





THE DOROTHY DAINTY SERIES 

By AflY BR00K5 

Large l2nio Cloth Illustrated! by the Author 


Dorothy Dainty 
Dorotby*s Playmates 
Dorothy Dainty at School 
Dorothy Dainty at the ShOTP 
Dorothy Dainty In the City 
Dorothy Dainty at Home 
Dorothy Dainty*a Qay Times 
Dorothy Dainty in the Country 
Dorothy Dalkjiy*a Winter 
Dorothy Dainiy in the Mountain:* 
Dorothy Dainty*s Holidays 
Dorothy Dainty's Vacation 

Littlb Dorothy Dainty is one of the most generous-hearted ot 
:hildren. Selfishness is not at all a trait of hers, and she knows the value 

making sunshine, not alone in her own heart, but for her neighbor* 
aood and friends.** — Courier, 

“ Dorothy Dainty, a little girl, the only child of wealthy parents, 
s an exceedingly interesting character, and her earnest and interesting 
ife is full of action and suitable au venture.** — Pittsburg Christian Ad» 
wcate^ 

“No finer little lady than Dorothy Dainty 
was ever placed in a book for children.**— 

Teachers^ yournal^ Pittsburg. 

“Miss Brooks is a popular writer lor 
the very little folks who can read. She 
has an immense sympathy for the children, 
and her stories never fail to be amniing 
Rochester {N B.) Herald 




LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO.. BOSTON 






























DEC 3J 1919 



